The Scions of Seheron
by Slashguy
Summary: When dire circumstances force Anders & Fenris to work together, they slowly learn to see each other in a new light.  In the tropical north, they embark on a journey they never imagined possible. M!Hawke/Fenris, M!Hawke/Anders, eventual Fenders.
1. Claim

******The Scions of Seheron**

_When dire circumstances force Anders & Fenris to work together, they slowly learn to see each other in a new light._  
_In the tropical north, they embark on a journey they never imagined possible._

_M!Hawke/Fenris, M!Hawke/Anders, eventual Anders/Fenris._

_Characters are the property of Bioware and EA._ ******  
**

**Chapter 1: Claim**

Anders watched in silence as Hawke and Fenris walked side-by-side a short distance ahead. More and more, the two had taken to casually excluding Anders and Varric from their conversations, especially on expeditions outside of the city proper, like their current excursion along the Wounded Coast with Kirkwall still at least two hours away. The sun was barely visible over the horizon, painting the sky crimson and titian in its fading light. Though Anders never liked the normally bone-white color of Fenris's hair, he grudgingly admitted that at moments like these, it became an almost entrancing palette for the warm hues of dusk.

Hawke's fingers seemed to brush against Fenris's every few steps. The two men never held hands in public, but that didn't stop Anders from burning with jealousy as he imagined them doing so. It just didn't make sense to him how Fenris was at the Champion's side, rather than him. Anders knew it was uncharitable in the extreme to feel this way, given the path he had set himself upon. If all went according to plan, the Kirkwall Chantry would be no more and Anders knew that his death would be an almost certain punishment. To lie to a lover in such a way, and then to leave him in such a fashion... it wasn't fair to want that for Hawke, but as Anders glared at Fenris, he reminded himself that life wasn't fair in the least.

The blond apostate's eyes were so intent on shooting daggers at Fenris that the large piece of driftwood ahead of him went completely unnoticed. It caught his right foot and the immediate shuffle with his left only worsened his balance. With a yelp of surprise, Anders stumbled forward, and even though Varric's arm shot out to help, it was too late and the mage fell to the ground. Though they were not on the beach proper, it was still quite sandy on the trail. As Anders put his hands out to break his fall, both slipped on the loose granules, and he soon found himself with a mouthful of grit.

"And I was just about to ask if we should set up camp or walk through the night," Hawke said with laughter in his voice. Anders struggled onto all fours, then spat the sand out of his mouth before wiping his lips with the back of one hand.

"Agreed. There's no need for useless fumbling in the dark," Fenris's deep, gravelly voice caused Anders to lift his head again. When their eyes met, the corner of the elf's lips curled into a smug expression of amusement. Anders began to blush.

"Well, I'll be fumbling in the dark later, and it will _not_ be useless," Hawke promised the elf with a waggle of his brows. Fenris and Anders both rolled their eyes. Varric snorted.

"Get a room, you two," the dwarf huffed as he extended a hand to Anders. Hawke chuckled, while Fenris only grunted, before both turned away to look for a suitable campsite.

"Thank you," Anders said as his hand grasped Varric's. The dwarf glanced over at Hawke and Fenris. When he judged them far enough away, he turned back to Anders.

"You're far more sure-footed when you're not busy boring holes in the elf's back with your eyes," Varric warned gently.

"And you're far more tolerable company when you mind your own business," Anders snapped. Part of him wanted to take back the harsh words, but he just couldn't bring himself to apologize.

"Fair enough, Blondie. But don't say I never warned you," Varric said with a sigh.

* * *

Anders chewed glumly at the strip of dried mutton. Just when he thought he had rid himself of the last bit of grit in his mouth, his teeth scraped against a grain of sand. The apostate was so frustrated that he spit the entire mouthful out, right into the campfire. The half-chewed meat sizzled and curled in on itself as it burned, but Hawke and Fenris, who were directly on the other side of the flame, didn't even notice. As usual, they were talking to each other in low tones, the sounds just shy of carrying the actual words to Anders's ears.

The blond apostate tried to watch the pair as surreptitiously as possible, but Fenris caught him looking several times. Anders had expected a sneer, or at the very least a knowing smirk, whenever their eyes met, but Fenris kept his expression neutral. Hawke only followed his lover's gaze once to peer across the fire, but otherwise he only had eyes for Fenris. The lack of open hostility emboldened Anders to watch them more closely, though he found himself studying his rival more than his objection of affection.

True smiles were still a rare occurrence on Fenris's face, but what usually amounted to a month's worth had already happened since they first sat down for their evening meal. Even though Anders continued to feel pangs of envy, an odd sort of curiosity stole over him. He knew Fenris had had a hard life, but usually the elf's constant brooding and caustic manner prevented Anders from feeling much sympathy. However, here in the warmth and light of the campfire, with Fenris actually smiling, Anders realized something that had never crossed his mind before.

"He's beautiful," Anders whispered to himself as the colors of flame danced along the elf's pale locks and glinted in the large, mirthful eyes.

"You should be eating your food instead of devouring Hawke with your eyes," Varric muttered. Anders was so startled that he almost choked on his food. He coughed and cleared his throat, drawing the lovers' attention from across the fire.

"Are you alright?" Fenris asked, an actual note of concern in his voice. Hawke turned to his lover with a raised brow, while Anders only blinked in silence. The tickle in his throat was still there, prompting the blond to cough, giving him an excuse to collect himself from the surprise of Fenris showing him anything other than bald hostility.

"Yes... I'm alright. Just ate a bit too fast for my own good. Thank you for asking," Anders replied tentatively. Satisfied with the answer, both Hawke and Fenris returned to their private conversation, but this time Anders was too embarrassed to spy on them, both from Fenris's unexpected kindness and Varric's accusation.

"_If he only knew that wasn't meant for Hawke,_" Anders silently mused, mildly horrified that he had even thought of Fenris as attractive, let alone given voice to such ideas.

"I need to relieve myself," Fenris announced as he stood up from the fire.

"I'll come with you," Hawke said immediately.

"Hawke, I'm not a child. I can do such things on my own," Fenris rebuffed gently.

"And what if I need to relieve myself, as well?" Hawke retorted.

"Then you would have said as much from the start," the elf pointed out.

"But what about all that fumbling in the dark we talked about?"

"Exactly why you're staying here. I'd prefer to do my business in peace, thank you kindly," Fenris whispered, though Anders and Varric were able to hear the entire exchange. Anders pretended to look through his haversack, while Varric aggressively polished Bianca.

"Well, don't stray too far. We never did find those mercenaries-" Hawke began.

"And I doubt we will at this hour," Fenris interrupted with a smirk, then walked away from the light of the campfire. Anders was still shuffling items in his haversack, while Bianca's wood finish positively gleamed from Varric's attentions.

"You two can quit pretending you didn't hear all that," Hawke said loudly.

"La la la! Oh Bianca, my beautiful..." Varric sang, as if he hadn't heard Hawke at all.

"Perhaps if you could tone down the pillow talk..." Anders began, but Varric attempted to drown his words out.

"Oh Bianca, the beautiful!" Varric sang louder.

"... we wouldn't have to pretend," Anders continued, undeterred by the dwarf's distraction. Hawke narrowed his eyes and was about to respond, when all three adventurers heard shouting nearby.

"Fenris!" Hawke yelled in fear and leaped up, with Anders and Varric only a split-second behind him. A short distance away, Anders could see Fenris from the glow of his lyrium brands which gave the elf the look of a ghostly apparition. There were several figures dressed in black surrounding Fenris, though two of them were already on the ground, having been struck down by the immense sword that the elf held aloft.

The mercenaries realized their mistake in attacking the quartet far too late. Bolts from Bianca whistled through the air while fire and lightning from the two mages lit up the night. Their foes were severely outmatched and succumbed quickly under combined assault. Two of the six men surrendered and were promptly knocked unconscious by the pommel of Fenris's sword in quick succession.

"Amateurs. Messing with us is _suicide_," Varric scoffed as he ran over with lengths of rope to bind the surviving mercenaries for interrogation later.

"So what was that about not finding any mercenaries at this hour? They almost caught you with your pants down!" Hawke joked as he ran over to his lover, who was panting from exertion.

"Hawke," Fenris said faintly, before sinking to the sand.

"Anders!" Hawke shouted, though the healer was already running over. The brunet mage waved his staff and created a bright mote of light above his lover, illuminating the elf's wounds.

Most of the cuts were quite shallow, but there was a deep, bloody gouge on his inner thigh. This was the part that Anders hated the most about his position as a healer. There were moments, when the wounds were so deep that he had to put his hands on a companion, and as the front line fighter, that was Fenris more often than not. Anders had plenty of experiencing touching him, but it didn't get any easier.

"This might sting a little. The artery was severed. Honestly, I don't know how you continued to fight with this wound," Anders said, impressed despite himself. Fenris was silent as Anders placed his hands on both sides of the wound. He almost pulled back when several of his fingers touched bare flesh through the large tear in Fenris's clothing. He looked up to find the elf glaring at him, the familiar look of loathing back on his face. Fenris had always hated magic being used on him, even for healing. It took all of Anders's self-control not to remark on that, though a part of him felt a measure of relief. This was Fenris at his most predictable. This was far easier to deal with than the strange elf who smiled and showed Anders a shred of concern.

The reluctant healer's palms began to glow with a soft blue light that was remarkably similar in hue to the glow that Fenris's tattoos emitted when active. How had he never noticed that before? Anders shook the random thought from his mind and set himself back to his task. With powerful words of magic, the light from his hands grew brighter and the flesh beneath began to mend before his eyes. Fenris began to pull away from his touch, but Anders maintained contact, despite his own eagerness to end it.

"I'm not done, stop moving," Anders demanded harshly. Fenris obeyed silently, though he continued to glare. After a few more seconds, with Anders pushing a tad more roughly than strictly necessary, he said, "there. As good as new." Fenris was silent, not that Anders expected anything more.

"You're welcome," Anders said loudly as stepped up and away from Fenris.

"Thank you Anders," Hawke offered instead of the elf, who got up silently and began to walk back toward the the campfire.

"Do you mean it?" Anders asked.

"Of course I do," Hawke reached over to touch Anders's shoulder but the other mage pulled away.

"Then prove it. Help me find the sela petrae," Anders demanded.

"Anders..."

"You said you would think about it. I'd like my answer now." He found it quite easy to transfer the anger he felt for the ungrateful elf toward the man who aided and abetted the behavior.

"Is there truly no other way to find it outside of the sewers?" Hawke groaned.

"None."

"Ugh, the things I do for you," Hawke grunted.

"_If only..._" Anders thought to himself.

* * *

Fenris gasped again as he stepped into something unsavory. Varric chuckled at his side, but up ahead, Anders rolled his eyes.

"I would expect a warrior to have a stronger stomach. He's worse than an Orlesian dame," the blond quipped to his fellow mage.

"We _are _in the sewers. I would expect a healer to be less enthused about trudging through such filth," Hawke grimaced and coughed at the smell.

"Anything for Justice and I to be separated once more," Anders reminded him. "Anyway, it's his fault for not having proper footwear. He could have worn sandals at the very least," the blond scoffed. He couldn't help but grin when he heard Fenris curse again behind him. Anders glanced back, then satisfied at the distance, he turned to Hawke. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and reconsidered.

"You look like a fish gasping for breath. Something on your mind?" Hawke raised a brow at his companion.

"I... well..." Anders uncharacteristically stuttered.

"The suspense is killing me," Hawke smirked and crossed his arms. Anders took a deep breath to steel his nerves, despite the stench of the sewers.

"I know it is not in my place to criticize, but... are you sure about Fenris?" Anders asked as calmly as he could manage. "He seems less a man to me than a wild dog," the blond mage added pointedly. Hawke's brows furrowed.

"You just don't know him," Hawke retorted with a shake of his head. Something about the tone dug at Anders, as if he were a child being reprimanded.

"I know as much as I'm ever likely to," Anders shot back.

"That's right, mage," Fenris snarled as he came around the corner to stand next to Hawke. Anders was startled, but managed not to let it show with anything other than a glare at the elf. His eyes shifted slightly to the elf's hair. He entertained the gleeful thought of tossing a pile of manure onto those annoyingly immaculate white locks. Emboldened by the image, he cut his eyes away from the baleful green stare and continued the conversation with Hawke as if Fenris wasn't there.

"He has let one bad experience color his whole world. Surely you want someone more openminded," Anders stated with a huff. Hawke sighed, but before he could respond, Fenris cut in.

"A mage _and _a hypocrite. What company you keep," the elf growled.

"Why do you tolerate that? You're every bit a mage as I am, and yet you let him say the word as if it is a curse."

"Anders, not now," Hawke replied with a shake of his head.

"It is a curse," Fenris spat, but he lowered his gaze at the look that got from his lover.

"Now, now boys, let's just get what we came for and then get out of this stinking mess!" Varric chimed in. "Bianca needs her beauty sleep and so do I!"

"Agreed," Anders hissed with a final look at Fenris before he turned away and quickened his steps.

* * *

"Just two drops in the baby's ear each day. Once in the morning and once at night," Anders instructed the woman before him, the infant in question resting in the cradle of her left arm. She nodded as she took the vial from the healer, then gave her thanks and shuffled out of the clinic. Anders sighed and rubbed at a knot in his shoulder. He then let out a hearty yawn and set about his closing routine. Various tinctures and herb bundles were locked away and then the clinic floor was given a brisk sweep. He hummed as he did his work, then smiled as he glanced at hidden nook at the far wall where he had hidden his stash of sela petrae. His smile faltered however as he thought of Hawke. On several occasions, Anders had almost spilled his secret to his fellow apostate, but each time, thoughts of the damned elf had intruded. If Hawke could be with... with that mage-hater... what hope did Anders have of making him understand the necessity of his task?

"No. No one must ever know until the task is done," Anders muttered to himself as he stored the broom in the closet and turned to the final step in his nightly ritual. He fished out a small bowl from the counter with one hand and took hold of a large silver flask with the other. He eyed the metal container for a moment and grinned. The hawker who sold it to him swore that it kept milk fresher for longer, and despite his skepticism, it had certainly exceeded expectations. Anders opened the door, then stooped down and began to fill the clay bowl with milk. He wished he could also use a silver bowl, but he knew better than to leave anything of the sort out in the open in Darktown. Just as he replaced the stopper at the top of the flask, he saw a shadow pull away from the rest to his right. His breath caught for a moment, before he realized that it was just a black cat. It didn't even look at him as it rushed to the milk bowl.

"Why, hello there!" Anders said with delight as he watched the cat lap up the milk. He stood away, afraid he might startle it, but it soon had its fill and sat back to regard him with large, topaz-colored eyes. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," Anders cooed as he knelt a few feet away and extended his hand. The large cat blinked, then rushed over. It purred and brushed its cheek roughly against his hand. From the size, Anders had assumed it was a tomcat, but a quick glance at the hindquarters revealed a molly instead. "You're a big girl, yes you are!" Anders said with a chuckle as she began to weave between his legs, purring up a storm. He was so intent on the cat that he hadn't noticed the footsteps approaching the clinic until bare feet tattooed with lyrium entered his field of vision.

"Fenris!" Anders said with a gasp as he stood up. The sudden movement sent the cat to bolting back into the shadows, causing the blond mage to curse. The elf just glared silently, the flame of the clinic's wall sconce dancing in the green, glinting eyes. Anders looked past Fenris's shoulder, then back at the elf when he saw no one else there. "Where's Hawke?"

"He's mine." The elf's gravelly voice rumbled. Anders didn't like the wild look in Fenris's face. However, his tongue would not be stayed.

"Is that what that ridiculous red strap on your wrist is all about? And what _is_ that thing you have tied up in it?" Anders said with a sneer. The elf's expression grew even more hateful as he took a step forward, forcing the blond mage to step back.

"He is mine," Fenris repeated.

"Yes, yes, I think you've already established that," Anders shot back, though his voice began to tremble.

"Surely you want _someone_ more openminded," Fenris growled as he repeated the words Anders had uttered to Hawke earlier. "It's pathetically obvious who that _someone_ is."

"What's pathetically obvious is that you can't handle a bit of competition," Anders retorted.

"Competition?" Fenris scoffed and then began to laugh. "You consider yourself competition?"

"Well apparently you do, otherwise you wouldn't be here," Anders pointed out with a self-satisfied smirk. "You hate that Hawke and I share something that you never will. As much as you like to gloss over it, Hawke is a mage, just like me-"

"He is _nothing_ like you!" Fenris raged and his lyrium brands flashed. Anders sorely wished he had brought his staff outside with him. "_You_ are an _abomination__!" _The elf fumed. Both the warrior and the mage said nothing more for a moment, their harsh breath the only sound between them.

"If you're done with your territorial pissing, I'd like to retire for the night," Anders said as calmly as possible.

"If you ever again attempt to make a claim on him, you will be sorry," Fenris said in a calm voice that chilled Anders far more than the elf's normally heated tone. And yet again, Anders couldn't help but respond despite all instincts to the contrary.

"Is that a warning?"

"It's a promise," Fenris hissed before turning on his heels and walking briskly away. Anders stood staring into the darkness for a moment, before slumping against the clinic door. He shook from the tension, then cursed at how afraid the elf could make him feel. With an embarrassed grunt, he pulled himself together and opened the door to the clinic, only to gasp in fright as something raced between his legs.

"Maker's breath!" Anders said with a chuckle as he spied the black cat making herself at home in the clinic, sniffing here and there, with an occasional look his way. "Are you hungry, girl?"

"Mrrrrow!"

"I'll take that as a yes," Anders said with a shake of his head as he locked the door behind him and began to search for something proper for her to eat.


	2. Dream of Things to Come

**Chapter 2: Dream of Things to Come**

"Room at this table?" A pleasant voice asked over the noise from the other patrons of the Hanged Man. Anders lifted his head from his ale to see the Captain of the Guard standing across the small table from him, her own cup of ale threatening to spill foam over the top.

"Suit yourself," Anders replied curtly, before wincing at his own lack of manners. Aveline wasn't exactly a friend, but among Hawke's companions, she at least tried her best to be polite. "My apologies, Captain. Please," he gestured to the seat across from him. He smiled wanly, but it did lift his spirits, if only slightly, to see the bright smile that this engendered from the warrior.

"Don't mind if I do!" Aveline said as she slipped into her seat. The foam of her ale sloshed over the side, but she quickly brought her mouth to the side of the cup and caught the majority of it with her tongue. She then froze and looked at Anders, then set the cup down and coughed. "Sorry, that wasn't very lady-like," she said as a slight blush rose among her freckles.

"I never knew that was a prime concern of yours," Anders quipped with a raised brow.

"Oh, I suppose it's from Isabela's constant needling," Aveline said with a bemused sigh.

"Isabela is hardly an example of lady-like behavior!" Anders scoffed and both chuckled.

"My ears are burning! Now what's all this about me?" Isabela asked as she slid into view and took a seat next to Anders.

"Anything else still burning? Or did the cream work?" Anders asked in a mock-serious voice. "Ouch!" He then yelped when Isabela kicked his shin under the table.

"What is he on about?" Aveline asked, looking back and forth between the mage and the pirate.

"Nothing," Isabela took a hearty swig of her mead that nearly emptied her cup. She swiped the prodigious foam from her mouth with the back of her hand and then leveled Aveline with an innocent look. "Enough about me. How is married life, oh Captain of the Guard?"

"Um..." Aveline hesitated as she took in the decidedly uncharacteristic expression on the pirate's face.

"How good is Donnic? Is he cocksure?" Isabela asked, still feigning an air of innocence despite all evidence to the contrary. Aveline sighed and lowered her eyes to her ale.

"Just... get it out of your system," the redhead urged. The brunette's eyes flashed with delight.

"Did he curl your toes? Pudding your peach? Dampen your Divine? Kaddis your Kate? Praise your Maker? Explore your Deep Roads?" Isabela finished the last of her mead and waved the barmaid over. "Honey mead, thank you," the pirate said with a wink, then turned back to her friend. Anders was shaking his head and trying unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle. "Now where was I? Oh yes! Did he Grey your Warden? Shank your Jory? Or did he cup your joining? How about 'satisfy a demand of your Qun.'"

"Yes, all right?" Aveline cut in before Isabela could continue what was apparently an extensive, well-prepared mental list. "He is an incredibly proficient lover. Happy?" The redhead added with flushed cheeks.

"Whoa! That's a little personal," Isabela drew back aghast before she and Anders both lost themselves in peals of laughter.

"Satisfy a demand of your Qun?" Anders coughed out, before losing it again.

"I'm particularly proud of that one myself!" Isabela giggled.

"Yes, yes, so very clever," Aveline scoffed, though there was a hint of a smile on her face. She took a swill of her ale and was about to order more, when a young guardsman appeared at her side.

"Captain?" He asked with salute.

"Hello Myles," Aveline returned the gesture then waved to her companions. "Guardsman Myles, these are my friends, Isabela and Anders." The young man exchanged greetings with the blond and brunette, then turned a serious look to his captain.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Ser, but you're needed at the Keep," Myles informed her nervously.

"What? I just left there. What is the problem."

"It's... well, it's..."

"Out with it, guardsman!" Aveline huffed.

"It's Rabbit, Ser. Sir Hawke's Mabari got into the pantry and we can't get him out," Myles replied. Anders and Isabela looked at each other and burst into laughter again. "We tried, but you're the only one other than Ser Hawke who Rabbit listens to when he is riled up. And Ser Hawke could not be found," the guardsman added quickly.

"Fine, fine!" Aveline grumbled as she stood up. She turned to her giggling companions. "Duty calls."

"To the Captain of the Guard!" Anders toasted her with a grin. "Tamer of wild canines, a paragon of Ferelden tradition!"

"Hah, hah." Aveline responded in monotone.

"We should do this more often," Isabela chimed in with a wink.

"We should," Aveline agreed with a weary, yet sincere smile, before leaving with Myles.

"She's so much more fun these days. Like someone else I know," Isabela said as she bumped Anders with her shoulder good-naturedly. "You've always gone on about mage rights this and mage rights that, but in the past few days, you really seem like you've found... a peace of sorts," the pirate observed. When Anders's face fell, she nudged him again. "Oh, come now, you were in such good spirits!"

"I've accepted my purpose, my fate," Anders replied.

"Okay... that sounds dour."

"No, it's fine. I've been happy, really... but..."

"I have a feeling the 'but' has something to do with our Hawke. Speaking of which, his butt is..."

"He isn't mine," Anders cut in with a sigh.

"He's still a friend." Isabela tilted her head as she regarded the blond mage.

"A lot of good that does me," Anders replied as he took a meager sip of his ale.

"Friends can still have fun," Isabela waggled her brows.

"Wait. You? And Hawke?" Anders drew back in surprise.

"A few times," Isabela assured him. "Of course, this was before he got serious with Fenris. The elf is not the sharing type," she added with a sigh. Anders blushed slightly.

"But he never came to the clinic... oof!" Anders was interrupted by an elbow to the ribs.

"That was a patch of bad luck. I've always had a clean bill of health otherwise," Isabela groused.

"I just, well..." Anders trailed off with a sigh.

"Speaking of fun with friends, why haven't we fucked?"

"Wha-" Anders spewed a bit of his ale across the table at the blunt declaration. After collecting himself and wiping his lips, he turned to look at Isabela. "You're joking."

"Hardly. You're easy on the eyes, I'm a wonderful lay, and we've already seen each other half-naked. That night at the Pearl was..."

"A long time ago," Anders finished for her. Isabela only smirked, then called the barmaid over to refill their drinks. "Besides, I don't just _fuck_ friends," Anders added.

"Who better to fuck?" Isabela laughed. "It can be just like it is with a stranger, but without the threat to life and/or coinpurse! A no-strings attached tumble in the hay is exactly what you need... my _friend._"

"Hmph," Anders drowned the rest of his reply with more ale, but he couldn't help that his eyes glanced over at Isabela's ample bosom. He had to admit, she was quite a sight, and even better, she was a she.

Truth be told, Hawke had completely spoiled men for Anders. The rough planes of their faces, their hard muscles and even harder lengths only made him yearn for his fellow apostate. However, women still held charms, with their yielding flesh and soft caresses. Though it had been ages since he had slept with anyone, at least fantasies of women could bring him to completion without the attendant heartache that the thought of men brought. So he mulled over Isabela's words, though he rebuffed her attempts to ply him with more drink. He had a slight buzz, which was the closest Justice ever let him come to being drunk. The spirit had been oddly silent of late, but Anders was currently too preoccupied to give that much thought. He became bolder with his glances until finally Isabela leaned over and whispered into his ear.

"I have a room here tonight. Let's continue this there," the pirate's honeyed words shot straight to his groin and his manhood pulsed when she added a quick lick to his earlobe. She took his hand and led him away from the table. Anders walked awkwardly for the first few steps, not from too much drink, but rather from the beginnings of an erection that he silently hoped wasn't too obvious to the patrons around them. Isabela pressed her warm body to his side and slipped an arm around his waist as she led him to her room.

* * *

Anders awoke with a groan. His head was pounding and he could hardly move. He tried to get up, only to realize that his wrists were tied to the headboard. A moment later, he realized that his ankles were similarly bound to the lower bedposts. He was completely naked save for a swath of the bedsheet which lay across his hips. It was cold in the room and he was covered in goosebumps.

"Isabela! The fun's over! Now let me out of these!" Anders shouted, but then his head swam and his voice sounded oddly muffled.

"You must turn from this path..." a hoarse whisper came from his left. Anders's heart leaped in his chest and he turned to see a black-robed figure hidden mostly in the shadows next to the bed.

"Isabela!" Anders screamed and struggled against his bonds, all while staring at the hooded stranger next to his bed in abject terror. It cold enough that he could clearly see the mist of his breath.

"She cannot hear you," the stranger whispered in a voice that gave no clues as to gender of the speaker. "But you _will_ hear me."

"There's plenty of gold in my coinpurse. You can take it all!"

"I know your plans for the Chantry," the voice hissed.

"Oh Maker," Anders gasped and closed his eyes. He was done for. He had been so careful. How could anyone know? "Please, just make it quick. I beg you," he pleaded, waiting for the blade that was sure to slip between his ribs. When nothing happened, he dared to open one eye. The figure remained in the shadows.

"The path you seek will doom us all!" The black robes swirled and the figure raced forward with clawlike hands. Anders screamed as the fingers covered his face.

Images blasted into his mind. The Chantry exploding. Hawke, his beloved Hawke, knifing him in the back. Templars and mages in pitched battle. The Circle of Magi towers across Thedas on fire or already crumbled in blackened heaps. And then the vision shifted to a view of the sea and more ships upon it than he thought possible. And all flew the flag of the Qunari. The thunder of _gaatlok _rang in his ears, then the vision shifted once more so that now he watched himself forced to his knees, his arms wrenched back and bound and a horrid mask thrust over his face.

"_Bas saarebas. Bas saarebas_..." the few words of Qunari that he understood echoed in his mind. _Thing, dangerous thing. Foreign mage. __"Bas saarebas!"_ He heard the Qunari voices chanting, but above the din, the cold voice of his intruder could be heard once more.

"The Qunari have watched and waited. With all of Thedas at war, Templar versus Mage, they will descend upon us with a fury never before seen. Humanity will be crushed underfoot, and mages will suffer far more than they ever did under the Chantry!"

* * *

"No!" Anders gasped, feeling as if he couldn't breathe, and then the images were lost in a blinding flash of light.

"No what?" Isabela called from the door with a confused look. She held two cups in one hand and a flagon of mead in the other. Anders's eyes shot around the room. It was warm, with nary a full shadow due to the lit torches on the walls. He then grabbed at his wrists to find them unbound. "You look like you've seen a ghost," the pirate said as she stepped into the room, the cups in her hand clinking together.

"I... I have to go!" Anders grunted while avoiding her eyes. He stumbled out of bed, covering his nudity with one hand as he fished around for his clothes with the other.

"I think we're well past the part where you need to cover your assets," Isabela chuckled with a shake of her head. "Are you sure you're not up for round 2?"

"I have to go!" Anders repeated in a rush as he stumbled out of the room.

"But you didn't get a chance to do your electricity thing yet!" Isabela yelled after him as he ran by. She watched him jog down the hallway then turned and sat on the bed. With a petulant sigh, she kicked the bedframe with her heels, then poured herself a drink.

* * *

"It was just a dream, it was just a dream," Anders said to himself as he rushed back to his clinic. He locked the door as soon as he entered, then rushed to the hidden nook. With a racing heart, he opened it, to find the stash of sela petrae and drakestone still there. A knock on the door caused him to wheel around. With shaking hands, he quickly put the cover back over the hidden compartment before calming his voice and calling out, "yes, who is it?"

"Anders, it's Lirene!"

"Lirene?" Anders quickly made it to the door and opened it. The familiar shopkeeper who had first sent Hawke his way walked inside quickly, with a grey shawl across her shoulders.

"Anders, I overheard a Templar patrol mention your name in Lowtown," Lirene explained while trying to catch her breath. Anders's chest tightened. "I got here as quickly as I could. I think they plan on coming here tonight!"

"They know. They must know," Anders said in a trembling voice as he thought back to the shadowy figure at his bedside. He glanced at the hidden nook. It was an omen. It had to be. Somehow, his secret had been discovered.

"Why do they care? I'll never understand. So what if you're an apostate! You've done nothing but help the people of this city!" Lirene muttered angrily, misunderstanding Anders.

"Thank you for the warning Lirene. I must go."

"It might be nothing, but I had to let you know, just in case."

"You're a true friend. I knew it might come to this eventually. Don't worry, I've kept myself abreast of all passenger ship schedules and there's one leaving for Rivain tonight," Anders replied as he began to check off the list of the things he would need to take. Lirene wrapped him up in a surprisingly strong hug. Her eyes were wet, but no tears fell.

"You are a good man. No matter what anyone says. You are a child of the Maker as surely as they."

"Lirene... I..."

"Just hurry up. I won't keep you. Take care, Anders," the shopkeeper said with somber nod and then she was gone.

"Mrrrow?" A familiar call came from outside the clinic. Anders laughed despite the severity of the situation and opened the door once more. The large black molly walked in, proud as you please, then sat back on her haunches and regarded him with her topaz eyes.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Mrrrow!"

"I'm not sure you won't to get involved with a soon-to-be fugitive."

"Mrrrow!"

"Okay then, Miss Mabari in a cat's body! I hope you like sailing," Anders replied as he began to look for something that could work as a cat carrier.

* * *

With a haversack and his staff securely fastened over one shoulder, and wooden box cradled under his other arm, Anders rushed through the relatively empty streets of Hightown. He took a moment to look at the box, which had holes in the shape of stars all long the sides and top. The mage stuck a finger inside, then yelped when he was rewarded with a sharp nip.

"Hey! You wanted to come along!" Anders grumbled as he sucked on the sore finger, before cradling the box as comfortably as he could and continued on his way. Before long he found himself at the door of the Hawke estate. He took hold of the wrought-iron door knocker and hesitated only a moment before giving it a sharp rap. After waiting for a minute or so, he tried again.

"Who is it?" A tired dwarven voice called from the other side of the thick door.

"Bodahn, it's me, Anders!"

"Anders, messere?" Bodahn swung the door open and looked up at the mage with bleary eyes.

"The household has already retired to bed, messere."

"I'm sorry, but I need to see Hawke," Anders pleaded. A sympathetic look crossed the dwarf's face, but he shook his head.

"Messere Hawke is not _alone_," the dwarf said, with a scrunch of his eyes for emphasis.

"Bodahn, who is it?" Hawke's voice called down from above.

"Hawke, it's me!" Anders said as he tried to enter, but the dwarf didn't budge.

"It's okay Bodahn," Hawke assured him and with a nod, the dwarf stepped away. Anders set his belongings down carefully then stood and watched as Hawke walked down the stairs, dressed in his evening clothes. Bodahn stood off to the side until Hawke bid him to go back to sleep.

"I'm sorry for the lateness of the hour, but I... I had to see you," Anders said, his eyes searching the other mage's face. Hawke looked down at the box, staff, and haversack, then turned back to Anders with plaintive look.

"You're... leaving?" Hawke whispered.

"Yes." Anders trembled at the word.

"Why? What has..." Hawke was silenced as Anders stepped up to him and hungrily took his mouth with his own. There had been so much he wanted to say to Hawke, but instinct and need washed away all thoughts other than to possess the other man he had ached for, and for so long. Anders felt Hawke's muscles tense, but as his tongue delved into the heat of Hawke's mouth, the resistance began to fade. Anders felt his need flare to life at the soft sigh that escaped from the lips under his. He pulled Hawke into an even tighter embrace, willing to rut against him right then and there, clothes be damned, except for the sharp gasp from above that brought him back to reality. Hawke pushed him roughly away and both men looked up to see Fenris at the top of the landing.

"I suppose I could've planned this out a bit better..." Anders whispered to himself.

"Fenris! This is isn't what it looks like!" Hawke held both hands up placatingly, but the elf's eyes were solely on Anders.

"I gave you a warning."


	3. Put Away Wet

**Chapter 3: Put Away Wet**

"I gave you a warning," Fenris hissed. Even at that distance, Anders could see that the elf's knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping the banister. However, the sight still couldn't tame the blond apostate's sharp tongue.

"As I recall, it was a _promise_, actually. And I do like promises!" Anders quipped. Fenris bared his teeth like his namesake and gave a guttural cry as he charged down the stairs, the lyrium brands flaring across his bare chest.

"Fenris, calm yourself!" Hawke shouted as he squared himself at his lover, arms outstretched to block his path.

"Get out of my way, Hawke!" The elf spat and tried to dodge around him, but Hawke anticipated his move and grabbed hold of both of his arms above the elbow. "This... this son of whore comes here and dares to put his hands on you?"

"At least I can remember my mother, whore or not!" The blond shot back.

"Anders!" Hawke growled, while Fenris intensified his struggle to break free from his lover's grasp.

"Messere!" Bodahn reappeared from his quarters holding a dwarven warhammer in front of his chest.

"Bodahn, go back to bed! Everything is under control!" Hawke yelled over his shoulder as Fenris cursed and writhed. The dwarf just stood there with the warhammer shaking unsteadily in his hands as his eyes darted nervously between the three men. Anders didn't doubt that Fenris could break free from the other mage if he really wanted to, though doing so could harm Hawke, which the elf wouldn't do, even in such a rage. That knowledge only embittered Anders further.

"Yes Bodahn, Hawke has the wild dog under control," Anders muttered. "Though perhaps he should have him fixed in the future."

"I will have your heart!" Fenris growled.

"Oh, is that another promise? But my heart is already taken," Anders feigned misunderstanding and placed his right palm over his heart, while giving the elf a forlorn look. He was about to add more, when he noticed Hawke's mabari trot out from Bodahn's room, sniffing a trail toward the wooden box by the door.

"No Rabbit! Get away from that!" Anders yelled, but it was too late. The cat hissed and shook the box upon the dog's approach, which then set the mabari into a full spate of barking. Anders ran over and scooped the box into his arms, but the cat continued to hiss and spit, which made Rabbit bark even louder.

"Get off of me!" Fenris shouted over the din, but Rabbit's barks were soon joined by more.

"When did you get another dog?" Anders wheeled around at the approaching noise, but instead of a dog, he saw Sandal rush into the room with a gleeful expression on his face, barking at the top of his lungs.

"Sandal! Stop that now!" Hawke yelled in exasperation. The dwarf savant paused for a moment and took in the scene before him. He grinned and clapped his hands loudly.

"Enchantment!"

"No! No enchantment! Go back to bed!" Hawke demanded.

"Master? What's wrong, Master?" Orana called out as she entered the room from the servant's quarter's opposite Bodahn's. She was dressed in her night clothes, but either she had gone to sleep with her garish green eyeshadow intact or she had applied a fresh coating before investigating the commotion in the main hall.

"Orana! Get a treat or something for Rabbit and get him out of the room!"

"Yes Master!" The servant girl raced off toward the pantry.

"Anders. Please... just go," Hawke said, his voice suddenly soft. Their eyes met and there was a subtle shift in Hawke's expression. It spoke of loss. Regret. And shades of something more. Though the look lasted mere seconds, Anders understood. While there was no doubting the love that Hawke had for Fenris, Anders knew that he had a piece of his fellow mage's heart, as well. And that... well, that was enough.

"Goodbye Hawke. It was a pleasure knowing you," Anders said with finality. Without waiting for Hawke to respond, he grabbed his haversack and staff, made a quick apology to Bodahn, then left.

* * *

Fenris spat at the closed door past Hawke's shoulder, then narrowed his eyes at the mage who still held him in a firm grip.

"Release me," he snarled.

"I'll let you go," Hawke answered quickly. "If you promise that you won't go racing after him as soon as I do," the mage added. The elf sneered but nodded. "You have to say it," Hawke said with a shake of his head.

"I promise," Fenris relented. Hawke searched his eyes for a moment, but then nodded and let his lover go.

"Sandal! Rabbit! Stop barking!" Hawke demanded as he rubbed his sore temples.

"Rabbit! Here, Rabbit!" Orana called out from the pantry door, waving aloft the dog's favorite rawhide chewtoy. Once she got his attention, she turned and ran back into the pantry, with the warhound in hot pursuit. For such a mousey girl, the former slave had proven to be a surprisingly good touch with Rabbit. Sandal, however, continued barking without him.

"Sandal, you heard Messere Hawke! Cut that racket out right this minute!" Bodahn ordered his son and gave him a quick tug on the arm. The younger dwarf stopped barking as soon as his adopted father touched him. He looked at the ceiling with wide eyes and began to speak in a voice far clearer than he ever had before.

"One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part and the skies will open wide..."

"Huh? What's this?" Bodahn gaped while Hawke and Fenris both raised a brow. The young dwarf continued.

"When he rises, everyone will see."

"By the ancestors! What's gotten into you, my boy?" Bodahn let Sandal go and looked him up and down.

"Enchantment?"

"That's more like it," Bodahn said with a shake of his head. "Apologies for the racket, messeres," the dwarf added to Hawke and Fenris as he began to lead Sandal back to their quarters.

"That's... quite alright," Hawke said as he studied Sandal for a moment, before shaking his head, as well. "None of us were prepared for that."

"You seemed to improvise quite well," Fenris said as he crossed his arms and regarded his lover with narrowed eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hawke groused.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself," Fenris elaborated pointedly.

"Fenris, don't even. I was half-asleep and Anders... he just... I wasn't expecting that! He caught me off-guard!" Hawke tried to explain, his headache still growing despite the relative silence now that Sandal and Rabbit had been calmed down. Fenris muttered something under his breath and turned away.

"What was that?" Hawke asked, but Fenris ignored him and began walking back up the stairs. Hawke grasped at the elf's wrist, but it was promptly wrenched free with a snarl and a sharp look. They entered their bedroom and Hawke quietly closed the door, taking a moment to turn slightly away from his lover. As soon as he turned back, he blinked in surprise, as Fenris had closed the distance between them silently and was now only inches away.

"_Festis bei umo canavarum_," the elf growled in Arcanum, the language of Tevinter. His heated breath was redolent with the sweet scent of the Orlesian figs the two of them had eaten before bed. "Do I still need to translate that for you?"

"_You will be the death of me._ Yes I know, you say it often enough," Hawke managed to joke, though Fenris clearly didn't share in his mirth. The elf's eyes blazed in anger and he suddenly grabbed hold of Hawke and shoved him against the wall.

"You are mine!" The elf growled. Before Hawke could say anything, even to agree, Fenris's lips covered his. The elf's tongue plundered the mage's mouth, while his hips pressed tightly against the other man. They both hardened in an instant. The kiss intensified, with their heads tilting one way, then the other, as their tongues slid together with growing need, their breath rough and ragged.

Fenris suddenly pulled back and grabbed the front of Hawke's nightshirt. Bunching the fabric in his fist, he yanked the mage away from the wall. He pulled him hard, then released his hold, and shoved Hawke facedown onto the bed. The mage let out a soft "oof" but was otherwise silent as Fenris grabbed hold of his waistband and gave it a sharp tug. The fabric ripped slightly as Hawke's buttocks were exposed and Fenris paused a moment to take in the sight. He then spat into his hand, covered his manhood, then spat once more and rubbed at his lover's cleft. With no further warning, he plunged into Hawke. The mage screamed in pleasure and pain and writhed underneath, but Fenris pinned him down with the full length of his body. He kicked Hawke's legs further apart and began to crash into him with hard, forceful thrusts.

"Fenris!" Hawke yelled, caring not that the whole manor could probably hear him.

"_I know it can be a lot to take in_," Fenris growled, repeating the words said to him after his first night with Hawke, when the mage had penetrated him. Hawke laughed for a moment underneath him, muffled slightly by the tangled sheets, but was soon yelling Fenris's name again as the elf pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in.

* * *

Anders cursed the rain that had started only moments after he had left the manor. His cat was none too pleased either, given the rain that fell on her through the holes in her carrier. She yowled as Anders rushed toward the dock, buffeted by the sudden gusts of wind that rushed through the streets. As he exited an alleyway into one of the larger thoroughfares, he nearly walked into a full patrol of templars in rain cloaks. It took all of his self-control to not turn around and dash back into the alley. Such a move would've only drawn suspicion, but he hated feeling exposed in full sight of them. These days it seemed like templars had patrols out and about at all hours, rain or shine. The ones in question were heading away from the docks and walking in his direction. Anders took a deep breath, calmed his nerves, and continued forward. As he neared them, he began to catch bits of their conversation, despite the weather.

"Well, I think we should send them all packing," one of the templars sneered.

"You're just mad that the beardless dwarf beat you at cards. Twice," one of his compatriots laughed.

"He cheated, I'm sure of it!" The first templar protested, but then a familiar voice piped in.

"Varric didn't need to cheat. A Mabari could tell when you're bluffing. You need to work on your game face, Guthrey," Carver Hawke scoffed.

"Oh! So you're on a first name basis with dwarves now?" Guthrey muttered.

"One dwarf, yes. And before you say more, I'll take a dwarf over a mage any day," Carver replied. His gaze drifted to the man walking by the group. He looked somewhat familiar, but when Carver turned for a better look, nothing rang a bell. He wiped errant drops of rain from his brow, then turned back to his fellow templars as they continued on their way.

As soon as Anders rounded another corner, he took a moment to stand under the eaves of a closed shop for a momentary respite from the rain. His nerves were absolutely frazzled. He was sure that Carver would recognize him, but then he remembered how dark his blond hair looked when wet, especially by lamp light.

"Not such a bad thing, after all," Anders whispered as he watched the rain wane just a bit. His cat yowled again, reminding him not to tarry. He almost poked a finger inside the box to comfort her, but then remembered her earlier reaction. "Yes, yes, don't worry, we'll be dry soon!" He cooed to the cat, then braved the rain once more.

* * *

Anders breathed a sigh of relief when he finally made it to the pier and spied the Pelican's Beak, the Rivaini ship that would take him to his freedom. It wasn't very impressive, but it would do. By this point the weather had calmed considerably, though there was still a light drizzle. He made his way to the gangplank where two sailors stood guard under heavy rainclocks and wide brim hats. Both held onto large, weatherproof oil lamps.

"Your business here?" The taller of the two men asked as he reached down and parted his cloak just enough to display the longsword at his belt.

"Passage to Rivain," Anders answered as he adjusted the wooden box under his arm. The cat inside sniffled, then gave a single, soft meow.

"We don't sail until mid-morning," the shorter man said gruffly as he looked the mage up and down.

"I didn't want to procrastinate," Anders said with a forced grin.

"We aren't a hostel. Come back at dawn," the shorter sailor said with a shrug.

"I'll pay double," Anders said quickly. Both sailors narrowed their eyes at this, but the shorter one nodded.

"Well, welcome aboard the Pelican's Beak, _Ser_," the sailor said in a tone that mocked Anders's proper accent. "I'm First Mate Enrique."

"Connor," Anders lied smoothly and held out his free hand in greeting. When the sailor didn't return the gesture, Anders nervously cleared his throat and let his hand fall back to his side.

"Most of our men are on shore leave, this being the last night here and all. Ronaldo here will show you to your room. Don't go poking about. Two sovereigns and fifty silver, if you please," Enrique beckoned while rubbing his thumb and first two fingers together.

"What? Double the fare is only two sovereigns," Anders protested.

"Fifty for the cat," Enrique nodded to the wooden box. "Animals are extra." As if on cue, the cat let out a long, sad wail.

"Alright, alright!" Anders answered, eager to get himself and his cat out of the damp weather. He momentarily set the box down, then fished into his coin purse and handed the money over. The Rivaini sailor took a moment to study each coin before he nodded to Ronaldo.

"I trust that you have a way to manage the cat's droppings? More silver will be had if there's any mess."

"Yes, of course," Anders lied again. He'd have to figure something out, but he saw little need to inform the ship's first mate.

The taller soldier motioned for Anders to follow him over the gangplank with a wave of his lamp. The sailor had a quick stride, but the mage took each step on the wet wood carefully. Once onboard, Anders turned to look back at Kirkwall one last time. He felt a sharp pang of regret, but a grunt from Ronaldo kept him from wallowing in it.

"Sorry, lead the way," Anders replied as he turned away from the city and followed the sailor below decks. The ship creaked and swayed in the wind, causing the mage to almost stumble twice. Anders muttered at his lack of sea legs and struggled to keep up with the sailor. They passed several doors before Ronaldo stopped and swung one open. The room was larger than Anders had expected and the weak light from the sailor's lamp barely illuminated the far wall. It was only lightly furnished, with a small bed and table with a single chair, all of which were bolted securely to the floor. But more than anything, it was a dry place to lie down, and for that Anders was grateful. He turned to the sailor and gave his thanks. The sailor only grunted in response as he walked over to the single wall lamp and lit it from the fire of his own.

"Before you sleep, make sure to snuff the flame," Ronaldo said. Anders was about to ask him about the necessities for the trip, like meals and when the cabin boy collected chamberpots, but the sailor was already walking away. The blond mage shrugged and closed the door, making sure to secure the latch, then set his belongings on the floor. He quickly stripped down to his underclothes, which had somehow remained relatively dry. Anders reached behind his head and removed his hair tie, then stooped down and used one of the bottom corners of the bed sheet as a makeshift towel to dry his hair. He then smoothed his errant locks back and secured them again with the leather strip.

"I'm going to let you out now,"Anders said as he sat down in front of the wooden box. "I know you're not very happy with me, but don't run off. I need to dry you off so you don't catch a chill."

"Mrrrow!"

"Be a good girl now..." Anders carefully unlocked the latch and removed the top of the box. The black cat's only movement was to shiver. "Oh, you poor thing, come here!" he said as he reached in and lifted her in the air. He held her to his chest to impart some warmth as he stroked her fur, then moved over to the bed. He sat down and pulled the top sheet away from the pillow. The cat was surprisingly compliant as he set her down and began rubbing her all over with the sheet. By the time he was done, she was a spiky-furred, purring mess. He leaned back on the bed while she began to knead at the sheet at his side, her claws flexing in and out.

"You need a name," Anders mused aloud.

"Mrrrow," the cat answered, pausing her kneading for a moment to fix him with a quizzical look.

"You really are like a mabari, aren't you? Well, minus the barking and slobbering," Anders chuckled. "How about Miss Mabari?" He ventured.

"Mrrrr..." The cat did not look impressed.

"Hmmm, too long, maybe? How about Mab, for short?"

"Mrrrow!"

"Well, that settles it, then! Glad to have you along, Mab," Anders said with a smile. It was odd how a cat could make him feel so happy given everything else going on in his life. There was no replacing Ser Pounce-a-lot, but the large black cat helped soothe the ache of separation he still felt from time to time. He gave Mab a quick pat, then gently got out of bed. He was far too awake to even attempt to sleep now. He opened his haversack and pulled out a package wrapped in oilskin. He gently unwrapped the waterproofed leather to reveal _Wardens in Training: Drill Harder. _When Anders first saw the book, he had assumed it was one of Varric's spicier tomes, but unless the dwarf also went by the nom de plume of Relia Goldencoast, it was by someone else.

Anders stood with the book in hand, then yawned with a full body stretch. Movement caught his eye and he grinned when he saw his newfound companion yawn and stretch in response. He then got back into bed, while Mab nestled down once more. Anders opened the book, but soon frowned and turned to the lamp on the wall. He whispered a few simple words of magic and smiled as the lamp grew noticeably brighter. He then leaned back against the headboard and began to read. The dodgy merchant in Darktown he had purchased it from had insisted it contained content even more illicit than Varric's ribald tales. Anders was far too embarrassed to press for details at the point of sale, but he was quite ready at present to find out what the fuss was all about.

* * *

Fenris rested on his side facing Hawke and watched the shadows from the fireplace that danced across his lover's face and bare chest. The mage's hair was damp and flattened against his forehead and his skin still held the sheen of sweat from their vigorous lovemaking. Best of all was the grin that was plastered on Hawke's face, a testament to Fenris's efforts. More often than not, the elf was on the receiving end of Hawke's attentions, though neither felt it necessary to keep score on that count. What they shared in the bedroom was always pleasurable, regardless of the particulars, though Fenris could not remember a time when he had Hawke screaming like he had this night. He had half-expected Bodahn to burst in with his warhammer demanding to know if the lord of the manor was safe and sound.

Fenris shifted in the bed slightly and almost placed a kiss on Hawke's smiling face, but reconsidered a mere inch from his lips. The breath from his sleeping lover ghosted over his mouth, so close and tempting. However, Fenris wasn't about to risk waking him. He had made a promise that he intended to keep. The elf's eyes narrowed as he thought on his rival and with an almost feline grace, he slid from the bed without disturbing Hawke's sleep in the slightest. The crackling of the fireplace helped mask the sounds of his armor as he quickly, yet carefully, strapped it on.

Fenris mentally ran through the short list of ships in the harbor willing to take passengers. Even though Danarius was no longer a threat, the former slave still made a habit of keeping tabs on the goings on at the docks. The bulk of his concern was for ships on the Tevinter-Kirkwall trade route, but his diligent reconnaissance afforded him a fair amount of knowledge of other routes, as well. He was still surprised that Anders had remained free for so long. Fenris found the mage utterly predictable and he had little doubt as to which ship he needed to search first for the apostate. He took hold of his greatsword, then reached for the door carefully, the claws of his gauntlets barely making any sound as they curled over the knob. As the heavy door opened with nary a sound, Fenris sent a silent thank you to Bodahn. The dwarf's obsession with keeping all the manor doors well-oiled was a welcome boon this night.

Fenris paused at the threshhold and turned to look back at Hawke, who hadn't moved an inch and still had the same smile on his face. Moments passed as the elf watched his lover's chest rise and fall with each breath. So serene, so beautiful was the man at rest. Another promise surfaced in Fenris's mind, unbeckoned.

"I'll let you go... if you promise that you won't go racing after him as soon as I do," Hawke's voice echoed in the elf's thoughts. He paused and considered that, but the moment was fleeting. For those reared in the ruthless, cutthroat culture of Tevinter, from the highest magister to the lowest slave, a promise was only as good as the strict interpretation of the demands. Fenris had indeed refrained from chasing the blond abomination _immediately _after Hawke had released his hold. However, sufficient time had passed and his rival was now fair game. Fenris ran a hand through his snowy locks as he stepped out of the room, shaking the vestiges of doubt from his mind.


	4. Antivan Fly

**Chapter 4: Antivan Fly**

Anders held _Wardens in Training: Drill Harder_ in his left hand, while he slid his right palm past his belly button, grazing past the dark-blond tufts of hair on his lower belly. His knuckles caught momentarily on the waistband of his snug underclothes, even tighter now due to his arousal.

"_**By the Tower of Magi!" The elf servant wailed in pleasure as the apostate hammered away, both of their trousers bunched around their ankles. Anthony gripped him at the shoulders and picked up the already punishing pace.**_

"_**I'll show you a Tower of Magi!" The muscular mage bellowed as he thrust forward again and again...**_

The book certainly wasted no time in getting down to business. Anders was surprised to discover that the author's tastes lay firmly on sexual liaisons between men. Despite his recent moratorium on fantasies of the masculine persuasion, Anders couldn't put the volume down. The fact that the rakish hero of the tale was also an apostate was icing on the cake.

Anders's breath quickened as he curled his fingers around his shaft. He flicked at the moisture at the tip with his thumb, then rubbed down on the underside, the slickness sending a shiver straight to his core. He chewed his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment to revel in the sensation. After a few slow, languid strokes, he opened his eyes once more and set the book down so that he could turn the page without releasing his hold on himself.

"_**By the Maker! Release that servant this instant, you knave!" A deep voice bellowed from behind Anthony. The elf beneath him clenched in surprise and caused the apostate to moan in appreciation. He shuddered with pleasure and slowly turned to see who had interrupted them. It was another elf, but this one was quite tall, with blond hair even lighter than Anthony's. He was a chiseled picture of perfection, dressed in full warden armor that accentuated the lithe muscles that graced his frame. Anthony's eyes were drawn downward by the impressive silverite codpiece that glinted in the light...**_

Anders rolled his eyes, but nevertheless quickened his pace, until a loud feline yawn caused him to freeze mid-stroke. He looked down to see Mab staring at his erect manhood. He blushed crimson, having totally forgotten about her in the heat of the moment. The black cat blinked, looked him right in the eyes, then fixed her gaze back down below his waist.

"Stop looking at that!" Anders almost squealed as he quickly pulled up on the sheets bunched around his knees. He arranged the bundle to form a barrier of sorts to block the unwanted scrutiny, but he still waited until she finally closed her eyes again. The mage breathed a soft sigh of relief and resumed his entertainment.

_**The grey warden's eyes took in every inch of the scene before him, pausing a moment to study the full curve of Anthony's backside as the firm muscles flexed when he withdrew from the servant.**_

"_**Leave us!" The tall elf ordered. The other elf stumbled away, trying to walk and pull his trousers up at the same time. Anthony watched him go for a moment, then pulled up his breeches. It was difficult to lace the front, given his straining length that was still unspent. He faced the elf who had interrupted him, his manhood clearly outlined behind the tight fabric.**_

"_**I wasn't finished!" Anthony fumed.**_

"**_Don't take that tone of voice with me, recruit, or you _will _be finished!" The elf snarled and stepped forward, but Anthony held his ground. "We've never met, but your reputation precedes you, Anthony!" The elven warden's eyes flicked downward._**

"_**And should I know who you are, **_**elf**_**?" The apostate shot back.**_

"_**Ser Fergeth, second-in-command!" The elf shouted as he stepped right up to the mage.**_

Anders raised a brow at the fictional elf's name but continued reading.

_**Anthony didn't back away, but he did blink in surprise when he realized the elf stood eye-to-eye with him. The angry green eyes were dazzling.**_

"_**All I see is an elf who doesn't know his place! What sort of madness do these grey wardens partake in, with elf **__**lords **__**barking orders?"**_

"_**How dare you!" Fergeth removed his left glove and slapped it across Anthony's face. "I demand satisfaction!" The elf challenged him. Anthony's brown eyes widened in disbelief. For an elf to challenge him to a duel... the very thought dishonored him and he swung his fist at the warden. The elf anticipated the move and blocked the blow, while expertly placing his foot behind the recruit's and shoving him off-balance. The two tumbled to the floor...**_

Anders stopped stroking himself and furrowed his brows.

"_**Attacking a superior officer? What do you have to say for yourself, recruit?" The pale-haired elf demanded, pinning the apostate under him, the mage's arms forced above his head. Their bodies were flush against each other, their faces only an inch apart. Fergeth arched a brow as he awaited the panting human's answer. Anthony finally caught his breath, despite the weight on top of him.**_

"_**Ser, you're resting on my cock," he answered, while pushing up with his hips. The senior grey warden's emerald eyes flashed and he returned the gesture, bringing his own firmness to rest next to the recruit's. The strong hands that held the apostate's wrists let go and began to roam his body. Anthony moaned and reached back behind his head to loosen the leather strip that held his blond locks in check...**_

Anders immediately unhanded himself and reached back to his own hair tie while glaring at the page. It could _not _be a coincidence. He brought his hand back down and began to thumb through the book.

"_**Fergeth, let me be the sheath to your mighty sword!" Anthony screamed wantonly as the elf pummeled him from behind...**_

Ander's right eye began to twitch at the names, as well as the daft declarations that only increased in frequency as he turned the pages roughly. Unfortunately, that wasn't the worst of it, he soon discovered.

"_**Is... is he mine?" Anthony peered at the kitten in the box that Fergeth had set down on their bed.**_

The twitch in Ander's eye increased.

"_**Yes. I hope you don't find this presumptuous, but I've already named him," the pale-haired elf said with a grin.**_

"_**And the name is?"**_

"_**Ser Purrs-A-Lot."**_

Anders slammed the book shut and set it aside, facedown. Mab opened one eye and glanced up at him.

"Ser _Purrs_-A-Lot?" Anders fumed and thrummed his fingers angrily on the back of _Wardens in Training._ To sully not only himself, but his beloved Ser Pounce-A-Lot was infuriating. There could be only one person responsible. He shook his head slowly at the name "Relia Goldencoast."

"Isabela..." Anders bared his teeth and thought back on all the times he had caught her looking at him and Fenris. He had always assumed that she was simply enjoying the acrimony that he and the elf never failed to put on full display when together. But... he had never imagined the pirate entertaining such thoughts... about him... and Fenris! To think he had treated her for that "burning issue" without proper payment...

* * *

"I've treated the acute infection, but you'll need to use this cream for a week to make sure all is well," Anders produced a vial that held a viscous lavender concoction.

"What is that, exactly?" Isabela asked with a hesitant look.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Anders smirked.

"Thanks, your bedside manner puts me so at ease," Isabela said with a scowl.

"You're welcome," Anders smiled, then held out his hand. "That'll be sixty silver."

"Um, about that..." Isabela trailed off and avoided the healer's eyes.

"Isabela, you said you were good for payment..." Anders let out an annoyed sigh.

"I am!" The pirate exclaimed, causing the mage's expression to lift. "Just not with actual _coin_," she quickly added. His expression promptly fell. "We can barter!"

"Isabela, how is it that you don't have sixty silver on you? You spend more than that in a few hours at the Hanged Man!"

"I... well... I've had a string of bad luck recently. But, I have this!" Isabela reached into a hidden pocket and brought out a compact flask filled with a bright lime liquid. Anders crossed his arms.

"Yes... expert healing services in exchange for what appears to be a mixture of piss and cucumber juice..."

"I'll have you know that this is the finest distilled _Antivan fly_." Isabela waggled her brows.

"I prefer lovemaking that doesn't involve supposed aphrodisiacs made from the crushed carapaces of toxic beetles," Anders grumbled.

"Don't be such a spoilsport!" Isabela waved the flask at him. "This here is liquid silver... no, liquid gold! It's easily worth two sovereigns or more on the black market."

"So why didn't you just pawn it off some impotent imbecile and _then _come here with actual coin?" Anders fixed her with a penetrating stare.

"Anders! Look, it's all I have. Help a friend out. Please..." Isabela pleaded with a despondent look.

"Ugh." Anders placed his face in his palm and sighed again.

"Is that a yes?" The pirate beamed.

"Yes, but..." Anders grumbled. He still held his face with the palm of his right hand, but extended his left for the vial. He looked up as his fingers curled around the offering.

"Thank you, Anders!" Isabela bounced forward and gathered him into a tight hug. "And thank you, Justice!" She added for good measure. Anders rolled his eyes.

"...don't come running to me the next time you pick up one of these diseases," Anders added pointedly.

"Isn't that the point of magic?" Isabela scoffed.

* * *

"I should have let her crotch rot!" Anders growled at the memory. Mab now had both eyes open. "Sorry. Go back to sleep," the mage said while petting the cat's head. He had to force himself to be gentle, but Mab apparently liked the rougher touch. She began to purr as she rubbed back onto his hand and then began to knead again at the sheets next to him. He left her to it and settled his hands on his belly, lacing his fingers together. He stewed silently, his thoughts bouncing from the slanderous book to his final kiss with Hawke. He wouldn't have found it half bad had "Anthony" found solace in the arms of a fellow apostate, preferably one with dark hair.

Anders blew at an errant lock of hair that had fallen across his left brow, then sighed. Despite his irritation at Isabel's evil imagination, Mab's purring and kneading caused his eyes to grow heavy. All the adrenaline that had kept him awake so far into the night and early morning began to ebb. His head bobbed forward, but he nodded back awake due to the awkward angle. He rubbed his nose, gave Mab a quick scratch under her chin, then settled under the covers. He muttered a counterspell to his earlier incantation and the lamp in his room died out completely. In the darkness, a wave of fatigue washed over him and sleep quickly claimed him.

* * *

Hawke awoke with a long, drawn-out yawn. He began to stretch, but stopped when he felt a sharp twinge of pain. He winced, but the expression quickly shifted to a big grin as he thought on who was responsible... and how. He had turned earlier in his sleep and was now facing the window. Judging from the darkness beyond the curtains, he guessed that it was too early to rise. His eyes slowly began to close at the soft pitter-patter of rain. He reached behind himself instinctively to draw his lover closer. When he touched only bedsheets, he let his hand roam and pat down on the mattress several times to find Fenris. When it was clear that he was alone in the bed, his eyes opened and he rolled over.

"Fenris?" Hawke called out softly as his eyes glanced about the room, the darkness of which was only broken by the dying embers within the fireplace. He shivered slightly and tugged the sheets up higher. Hawke yawned again, then reached for Fenris's pillow. He pulled it close and buried his head in it, taking a deep breath and relishing the scent of his lover. He wasn't overly worried at the absence, as it wasn't uncommon for Hawke to wake up alone in bed. He often roused himself in the morning to find Fenris either pacing in front of the fireplace in heavy thought or sitting at the nearby desk practicing his reading. However, if Fenris took his leave for his own manor, he rarely parted company without waking his lover for a kiss. Hawke was just too tired to properly register that fact at the moment.

The sound of the door knocker being pounded below instantly flooded Hawke's mind with the memories of what took place just prior to Fenris's vigorous attentions. The lord of the manor was now wide awake and he quickly threw on his evening finery, pausing only momentarily when he saw a tear at the waistband of his pants. However, he was in too much of a hurry to bother finding another pair and rushed out of the room. The knocker continued to pound, echoing through the main hall. Rabbit exited Bodahn's quarters with a curious yelp.

"Don't you dare!" Hawke warned with a finger jabbed at the warhound. The dog sulked and gave out a worried whine. "No barking!" His owner elaborated.

"Messere?" Bodahn was soon at Rabbit's side, once again holding his warhammer.

"I've got it, Bodahn. You can put the hammer away," Hawke urged as he reached the door. He felt a surge of anger as he remembered Anders and the liberties the other mage had taken in sight of Fenris. Hawke jerked at the handle and launched into the beginnings of a tirade well before the door had opened completely.

"Anders, if you think you can just come back and-" he swallowed the rest of his words at the sight of Varric and Merrill.

"Hawke," Varric said simply.

"Hawke!" Merrill wailed in despair and rushed forward, her face streaked with tears. She threw her arms around him and began heave with loud, racking sobs. Hawke just stood there dumbfounded with his hands in the air, before coming to his senses and hugging Merrill back.

"What's wrong?" He asked. Merrill just started crying even harder. Hawke awkwardly rubbed at her back and raised his brow at Varric.

"We should go inside," Varric replied.

"Of course, of course." Hawke nodded and practically had to drag Merrill from the threshold. Varric closed the door behind them, making sure to lock it for good measure.

"Morning Messeres Varric and Merrill," Bodahn greeted with a slight bow. Merrill only cried in response and nodded in his direction.

"Good morning, Bodahn," Varric replied. He glanced curiously at the warhammer in the other dwarf's hands. Bodahn followed Varric's gaze, then blushed and hid the weapon behind his back. "And hello to you, too," the beardless dwarf proceeded to pet Rabbit. The dog glanced sheepishly at Hawke, then gave Varric a half yawn, half yowl in greeting.

"So what happened?" Hawke asked again, Merrill still crying in his arms.

"It's all gone! Everything!" Merrill sobbed.

"Her house was raided by the templars earlier this evening," Varric explained. Hawke's eyes grew wide.

"What?"

"They... took everything... even the Eluvian!" Merrill choked out.

"I was walking Daisy back home when one of the Lowtown street urchins warned us just before we got to the Alienage. We returned later to see if we could salvage anything. But there was nothing left," Varric answered for his crying friend.

"Varric, that's not like you. What if they had laid a trap for you and Merrill!" Hawke said in disbelief.

"Believe me, I know! But Daisy here had to make sure... and, well..." Varric trailed off with a shrug. Hawke nodded in understanding, knowing the soft spot the dwarf held for the Dalish girl.

"Morning Master and Master's friends," Orana called out. Hawke turned to her in surprise. "I'll put tea on for everyone," she added with a shy bow.

"Thank you, Orana," Hawke gave her a big smile, then patted Merrill's back again. The elf finally released her hold and stepped away.

"I'm sorry," she said with a sniffle and wiped her nose. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No apology necessary," Hawke assured her. That caused a fresh wave of tears to start, but this time Varric stepped up to offer his shoulder in Hawke's stead.

"There, there Daisy. Why don't you go lie down for a bit. Hawke and I will get this all figured out," the dwarf cooed. Bodahn, sans hammer, instantly appeared at their side and offered to take the elf to the guest's quarters. Merrill hiccuped, then nodded and let herself be led away.

"You'll never believe who tipped street urchin off," Varric whispered once Merrill was out of earshot.

"Not much could surprise me after the night I've had," Hawke said dryly.

"It was Carver."

"Well, I stand corrected."

* * *

Anders felt as if he had only just closed his eyes, when a harsh growling sound woke him. It took him a moment to realize that it was Mab and she was clearly not pleased. On instinct, he chanted a few words and the wall lamp flared back to life.

"Anders." The rough, deep voice was unmistakable.

"Maker's breath!" Anders yelped and immediately sat up in the bed, clutching the sheets to his bare chest. He stared in fright at the armored elf who stood in front of the door, blocking the mage's only egress. Even worse, he held the mage's staff in his left hand. "What are you doing here?" Anders asked in a trembling voice.

"Keeping that promise," Fenris replied coldly. "You did say that you enjoyed them," the elf added cruelly, though he made no move to close the distance. Mab's back was arched and her growl went up a pitch.

"This has to be a dream!" Anders protested and scrunched his eyes shut. When he opened them, Fenris was still there. Anders shook his head in disbelief. "How did you get in here? I locked the door!"

"You're clearly not as bright as you wish others to believe." Fenris lifted his right hand and glanced at his fingers as he gave them a quick flourish. The lyrium brands flashed and his hand burst into the familiar ghostly light. "You've seen me put my hand through people without leaving any trace as I crushed their hearts. What makes you think I can't put my hand through a door to unlock it from the other side?" The green eyes locked back onto Anders. Fenris slapped the staff into his other hand and then brought the shaft down onto a raised knee, snapping it in two. The sharp crack caused Anders to jump in his skin. The elf smirked as he let the splintered halves clattered to the floor.

"This is ridiculous Fenris! I'm _leaving_ Kirkwall! For good. Surely that's an arrangement you can be satisfied with!" Anders broke out into a cold sweat and gulped as he looked at his broken staff. The elf narrowed his eyes, but he seemed mull over the mage's words.

"Perhaps _you _speak the truth, but what of your other self? You're an _abomination_," Fenris growled in a low voice. "The demon inside you could feel quite differently."

"Are you _serious?_" Anders laughed aloud despite the severity of the situation. "Believe me, Justice does not share my love for Hawke."

"Don't speak of love to me!" Fenris suddenly shouted in rage. Mab spat and hissed as the elf's voice grew louder. "You have no idea what love is!"

"You don't know me or my heart, you filthy slave!" Anders screamed right back, the insult given life by anger rather than true thought. Fenris's eyes flashed and he rushed at his rival. Mab howled, but the mage's protective instinct kicked in and he roughly shoved her off the bed just as Fenris landed on top of him. The bed creaked and sounded as if it might break at any moment as the two men wrestled. They grunted and growled like wild beasts, their limbs in an ever shifting tangle. Anders heaved and writhed, but the elf was stronger and on top. The mage's fingers were like claws as Anders tried to grasp at Fenris's throat, but the elf managed to get his wrists in a vice-like grip. Both rivals panted with heavy exertion as the elf slowly began to force the mage's hands away. Anders's grunts shifted into a whine of frustration as his strength slowly gave out. Finally Fenris's muscles surged and with a triumphant shout, he broke his rival's resistance and pinned the mage's arms to the bed. Anders gnashed his teeth and tried to kick him, but Fenris weaved his legs between the mage's, removing any leverage. Their chests rubbed together with each deep breath and their faces were mere inches apart.

"Call me a slave again, abomination!" Fenris dared him. Anders strained against Fenris's grip, but was otherwise silent. "Where is Justice now?" The elf mocked. Anders gritted his teeth as his thoughts raced along the same lines. Despite the mage's insistence that he and Justice were one, Anders knew he often blacked out during times of extreme emotional distress, only to wake up later and find the cause of said distress removed or otherwise neutralized. Unfortunately, it seemed that Justice was in no rush to intervene.

"Oh, now that sharp tongue of yours is silent, is it? Nothing to say for yourself?" Fenris sneered. A bead of sweat dropped from his nose and fell right into his rival's mouth. Anders coughed and gagged at the salty taste and turned his face away. His eyes happened to fall on the spine of _Wardens in Training._

"Ser, you're resting on my cock!" Anders said suddenly and bucked his hips. Neither man was erect, but their struggle had positioned them in such a way that their intimate parts were perfectly aligned. Fenris gasped and lifted his midsection as if the mage had shoved a red-hot poker between them. The sudden awareness that his rival was nearly naked and directly beneath him muddled Fenris's reflexes and Anders was able to snap his legs up and between them. He caught Fenris's chin with his right knee, causing the elf's grip to loosen, and then used his other foot to kick the elf out of the bed while he rolled off the opposite side. Almost in unison, the rivals stood up and faced each other with the bed between them.

Fenris tensed his muscles and was about to leap, when sharp pricks of pains erupted from his feet. He looked down to see black paws darting out from under the bed at his exposed toes. He instinctively backed away from the edge, cursing in Arcanum. Anders capitalized on the distraction and dove for his haversack. He reached in and pulled out the first flask he could find.

"Don't come any closer!" Anders warned and held up the lime-green vial of _Antivan fly_ for Fenris to see.

"And just what is that?" Fenris asked warily, his gaze shifting down at moments to make sure his feet were safe.

"Antivan Grave's Kiss," Anders lied instantly. "Come any closer, and you'll suffer a slow painful, flesh-rotting death! It only takes a drop on the skin."

"Lies! That's probably some minty salve for toothaches! You're a healer, what do you know about poisons?" Fenris scoffed, but his wary expression remained.

"Having patients die from them has taught me a thing or two," Anders improvised on the spot. He glanced at the door and silently calculated the distance. With enough of a diversion, he could make it. He had planned to sell the vial in hand for extra coin in Rivain, but a distraction was worth a bit more at the moment.

"And where would you get such a thing?" Fenris said with a shake of his head, and placed one foot on the bed.

"From Isabela, of course," Anders answered coldly. Fenris froze and thought on that, but then sneered.

"You're bluffing! You run the risk of poisoning yourself!" The elf hissed and jumped over the bed. Anders immediately threw the vial at the floor between them. It shattered and sprayed liquid in a small pool that instantly began to bubble and hiss. Fenris stumbled back as Anders turned for the door. Both men coughed as a sickly green mist quickly filled the room. Anders had never heard of _Antivan fly_ reacting in such a volatile way.

"Damn... it... Isa..." Anders mumbled slowly, his words beginning to slur. He fell to his knees only a foot from the door. He heard a sharp thud and turned to see Fenris on his back, splayed out on the floor. Anders grimaced and tried his best to focus. He turned back to the door and tried to approach it on all fours. He moved mere inches before his muscles gave out completely and darkness overtook him.

* * *

_Author's Note: "Antivan fly" is a reference to the real world aphrodisiac, "Spanish fly." It's also made from crushed beetles that look nothing like flies, but I suppose "Spanish beetle" doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well :)._


	5. Rivaini Ruse

**Chapter 5: Rivaini Ruse**

"So Carver? Really?" Hawke asked as he warmed his palms on the sides of his teacup.

"I'm certain," Varric replied, lifting his cup for a sip, but not before blowing on the piping hot tea for a moment. The whisps of vapor curled and danced away from his breath. "The description the street urchin gave me left little doubt," Varric elaborated. Hawke shifted in his seat, across the small oakwood table of the servants' dining room, set just off the kitchen. Though the manor had a proper, grand dining hall, Hawke often sat here with his friends. He was never one for stifling formalities, and he quite liked the coziness the smaller dining room provided.

"But why?" Hawke took another sip from his tea.

"Do you really have to ask?" Varric raised a brow. He set his cup down and gave Hawke a curious look.

"Yes, I suppose I do," the mage groused as he brought his cup to his lips for another sip.

"Carver's had a thing for Daisy ever since he met her."

"What? Ouch!" Hawke gasped as he spilled hot tea on his lower lip in surprise. He set the cup down and wiped at his mouth. "You know how Carver feels about mages. And she's Dalish!"

"I recall a certain avowed mage-hater making an exception along similar lines," Varric said with a smirk.

"But Carver? I just... well, I never thought..." Hawke's voice trailed off as he considered the information.

"Maybe if you joined me for drinks with Carver every now and then, things like this wouldn't be such a surprise," Varric said in a neutral tone. Hawke frowned.

"Maybe if he actually invited me, I'd be more keen on the idea," the mage retorted.

"It's the Hanged Man, Hawke. Invitations aren't necessary. If he's there and you're there, why not share a table," Varric pointed out after another sip of his tea. The mage huffed.

"It's not that easy," Hawke reminded his friend.

"If you say so," Varric said with a shrug.

"I don't see you sharing drinks with your brother," Hawke said flippantly, instantly regretting his loose tongue. He and Varric both winced. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," the mage apologized.

"Apology accepted," Varric said after a moment's pause. He was about to add something more, but his attention was drawn to the side by a sharp crackling from the dining room hearth. The flame was dying down, prompting Hawke from his seat.

"Give me a moment," the mage said as he got up and walked over to the small stack of logs next to the fireplace. He added more wood, then took hold of an iron poker from the wall rack. He stooped down and began breaking apart the embers so that the new log was nestled in their heat. Hawke could have used magic to stoke the flames, but unlike many mages, he often employed mundane methods for tasks such as this. He found the hands-on approach relaxing.

"Has Carver ever made his feelings known?" Hawke said over his shoulder as he continued to work on the fire.

"In so many words, yes. But you know our Daisy. Things fly over her head all the time," Varric replied. Hawke grinned.

"Well, I'm glad Carver came through for her." Hawke gave the fire a final poke, then returned to his seat. "She's welcome to stay here, of course."

"Are you sure? I mean..." Varric paused and scratched his head before continuing, "she and Fenris have never really gotten along all that well."

"He'll manage," Hawke answered with a slight frown.

"Where is Ser Broody, anyway?" Varric asked, looking around all of a sudden. Hawke's frown deepened.

"What's going on?" Varric thrummed his fingers on the table. Hawke ran his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair and sighed.

"Anders came by earlier this morning."

"And?" Varric shrugged.

"Things got a little tense between him and Fenris."

"Worse than usual?"

"You could say that," Hawke answered with a rueful chuckle.

"It sounds like there's a story here," Varric leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers in front of his chest.

* * *

"What? You didn't ask what was wrong? You let Anders walk out of here without even asking him where he was going?" Varric exclaimed with a look disbelief.

"Varric, it was sheer chaos in here!" Hawke suddenly raised his voice, but it remained shy of a full blown shout. He began to talk faster as a look of anguish crossed his face. "I didn't know what to do! Fenris saw me get kissed by the man I cheated on him with-" Hawke stopped abruptly when his mind caught up with his tongue moments too late. Varric's mouth dropped. He stared at Hawke in silence, then shook his head.

"And you're just sitting here? For all you know, Fenris has killed him already! I mean... I can't believe _you're_ still alive, actually, since Fenris doesn't seem to be the forgiving sort... oh... you haven't told him, have you?" Varric took a breath.

"No..." Hawke moaned and dropped his face into his palms.

"Do you have feelings for Anders?" Varric asked bluntly.

"Like the sort you have for Bianca?" Hawke joked weakly. Varric gave him a withering look.

"It's a yes or no question, Garrett Hawke."

"Is it?" The mage asked softly as he looked down at the table.

"Oh boy," Varric exhaled.

"Stop right there, Varric. I know what you're thinking, but don't jump to conclusions."

"I conclude that you're confused."

"I love _Fenris_. But with Anders here this morning, it was like being confronted with what happened, without it actually being brought out into the open. I just couldn't handle it. So I didn't. I let Anders go, no questions asked, because honestly that's the best outcome I could have hoped for!"

"So you mean to tell me that you let a good friend, a true friend, who could be in the same trouble Merrill avoided this morning, walk out of your life without asking why?" Varric said in a single breath.

"I didn't know about Merrill's troubles at the time!" Hawke protested.

"Well, now you do. We need to find Anders. Even if the templars aren't after him, I bet that your broody elf has some pretty broody things to say to him-" Varric preemptively cut off an interruption from Hawke, "because even though he doesn't know about the cheating, the kiss might be the excuse he was looking for to rough Anders up a bit."

"Fenris is probably at his manor," Hawke protested weakly.

"Riiiiight."

"He promised me actually, that he wouldn't lay a finger on Anders," Hawke added.

"You really don't know people from Tevinter very well, do you?"

* * *

"Orana, how's Merrill?" Hawke asked as he came down the stairs, having changed his clothes.

"She's asleep master. Shall I wake her?" The slight elf girl looked up from her grooming session with Rabbit.

"No, let her sleep until breakfast. Tell her that we'll be back soon and not to worry," Hawke said as he walked past her and Rabbit, giving the dog a quick pat.

"Yes, Master," Orana replied and then turned back to brushing the mabari's fur. He nodded to Varric and the two left the manor. The ground was wet, but the rain had ceased. The rising sun was just peeking over the horizon.

"Where are you going?" Varric asked as Hawke walked in the opposite direction from the dwarf.

"Fenris's manor."

"He won't be there," Varric argued. "We should head to the Hanged Man. It's still early for ships to be underway, so Anders is probably having his last drink. Broody has probably guessed the same thing.

"Just humor me, okay?" Hawke asked. "We both live in Hightown, for Andraste's sake!" The mage cursed mildly. Varric sighed, but nodded. He turned and followed his friend as the two made their way through the puddles from the recent rain. Before long, they found themselves at the door to Fenris's manor. Hawke wasted no time in giving the knocker on the door a sharp series of raps. There was no answer. He tried again to no avail. He was about to try for a third time, but Varric caught his arm.

"I'm telling you, he's not here," the dwarf tugged on his friend's sleeve. "The more time we waste, the more time either Fenris or the templars have to rearrange Blondie's face."

"Okay, okay," Hawke finally relented as the guilt he had bottled away began to bubble to the surface again. Varric saw the look on his friend's face.

"Hawke, don't beat yourself up about this. Leave that to me!" Varric smirked and punched the mage lightly on the shoulder. "Let's just concentrate on finding our boys and making sure both are safe and sound."

"Varric... thank you," Hawke said with a sad smile. Varric nodded and the two hurried on their way.

* * *

The hour of the day mattered not when it came to the Hanged Man. Hawke marveled at Norah, the head barmaid. It was as if she never slept. She was _always_ on duty, regardless of the time of day Hawke visited the establishment. He was about to get her attention, but Varric beat him to it.

"Norah, light of my life! Have you seen Anders or Fenris?" The dwarf said with good cheer. He saw no need to let anyone in on the fact that he was worried. Hawke took his friend's lead and schooled his features to mimic the dwarf's.

"Morning, Varric. I've seen neither hide nor hair of the elf, but Anders was here with Isabela earlier. He left in a huff, though," the barmaid answered over her shoulder as she handed a patron a mug of ale.

"When was this? Did Anders say where he was going?" Hawke asked, his cheerful facade cracking. Norah turned to him and shook her head. "It's been a busy morning. It was a while back, that's all I remember."

"And where is our favorite Rivaini?" Varric said with a chuckle.

"_Your_ favorite Rivaini," Norah corrected. "She rented out the last room to the left on the main hall," the barmaid motioned with her head. "I never saw her leave."

"You're the best Norah!" Varric proclaimed with his hands in mock prayer. Norah rolled her eyes.

"Prove it with better tips," she retorted and turned to take another order. Varric and Hawke left the barmaid to her work and began to walk to the backrooms.

"Get my orders right for once, and maybe I will," Varric muttered under his breath as they passed his room. Hawke chuckled lightly at his side as the two neared the last room down the hallway.

"Rivaini?" Varric knocked on the door. There was some scuffling, the clatter of a flask hitting the floor, and a soft curse.

"Varric? Is that you?" Isabela called out from the other side of the door.

"And Hawke," the mage answered for his friend.

"Well, helloooo there..." The door swung open and a bleary-eyed Isabela greeted them with breath that reeked of alcohol. Both men winced and wrinkled their noses.

"What can I help you fine gentleman with this evening?" Isabela said to Varric's chest. The dwarf crossed his arms over his pecs.

"Eyes up here, Rivaini. And it's the morning."

"Pshaw!" Isabela scoffed, but her eyes finally made their slow, meandering way up to Varric's.

"Do you know where Anders went?" Hawke asked with a slight note of urgency in his voice.

"No idea, Hawke," Isabela paused to hiccup. "We had our fun, and then he was out the door without a word! We didn't even get a chance for an encore!" The pirate pouted. A dark look crossed over Hawke's face, but he quickly composed himself. Still, even in her drunken state, Isabela caught it.

"Jealous are we?" She chuckled and tapped Hawke lightly on the nose.

"Did you see Fenris?" Hawke ignored the jibe.

"Ooooh, I wish..." Isabela said with a smile and a shiver. "If I had him here with Anders," she clenched her hands and scrunched her eyes, lost in thought.

* * *

Anders moaned as he opened his eyes, but not from pain. Far from it. His entire body tingled and the light of the wall lamp danced in his vision. He saw a shadow in the corner of his eye, then giggled as he was poked in the side with a finger.

"Come to bed," Hawke said, his voice rough and gravelly.

"Anything for you," Anders replied in a sing-song voice and giggled again. He slowly made his way to his feet. He looked down and noticed that he was hard as a rock and tenting his underclothes. He tapped himself, then wobbled at the sensations that elicited. He was about to tap himself again, but a strong hand closed over his and led him to the nearby bed. Everything was hazy and muted, but his sense of smell was magnified. There was a sweet scent in the air, almost like warmed honey. His head swam, but he knew everything was right in the world with Hawke at his side. The other man giggled as well, then stumbled forward, pulling Anders with him. They fell onto the bed in a laughing heap.

"You look funny!" Anders said with a big grin as he lay face to face with Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall's face seemed to push and pull into weird contortions. None of this bothered Anders, though, and he leaned forward for a kiss. He missed Hawke's lips and instead placed a loud "mwah" on the other mage's nose. Hawke chuckled and wrinkled his nose from the sensation.

Hawke pulled Anders closer and proved to be a better aim. His lips mashed into Anders, who moaned again. Hawke's hot tongue darted past the parted lips into the blond mage's mouth. Anders swooned. As with scent, his sense of taste was heightened. Hawke tasted like Orlesian figs, the blond mage's favorite fruit. Anders savored the flavor as he pushed back with his own tongue, as well as his body. His hardened manhood jostled up against Hawke's. A soft groan slowly rolled up from the depths of Hawke's chest as the two men began rub the whole length of their bodies against each other. They soon found a rhythm that had them panting and moaning in absolute ecstasy.

"I love you Hawke," both men said as one.

* * *

"Get some sleep Isabela," Hawke muttered.

"If you actually remember this conversation later, keep an eye out for Anders and Fenris. It's important," Varric urged.

"Anders and Fergeth... I mean Anthony and Fenris. Important. Got it," Isabela said with a sharp nod and a sloppy mock-salute.

"Let's go." Hawke scowled and shook his head. "We'll chat again when you've slept this off." He gave Isabela a quick wave.

"Bye Rivaini." Varric opted for a more polite farewell.

"Goodbye, goodbye," Isabela smiled and closed the door. There was the soft click of the lock, then a muffled thud.

"This has been a huge waste of time," Hawke muttered as they walked back down the hall.

"Not necessarily. At least we know Anders was here. Let's ask around and see if anyone noticed anything," Varric stated. Hawke nodded in response, but was otherwise silent.

"_Varric is right. It was unbecoming of me to let Anders go without finding out why. I'll never forgive myself if something has happened to him..."_ Hawke thought to himself as he let Varric take the lead in asking other patrons for any information on Anders and his whereabouts.

"_And Fenris... please let him be off somewhere... _away _from Anders..." _Hawke continued to muse in silence.

* * *

"So what now?" Hawke asked as he and Varric exited the Hanged Man, their efforts proving fruitless so far.

"We get some food and think things over," Varric answered while patting his belly. "It'll clear our heads."

"My place or yours?" Hawke motioned with his head back at the Hanged Man. Varric shook his head. "Yours. I want to check up on Daisy, too."

The mage and the dwarf quickly made their way back to Hightown. They passed by several templar patrols, but none of the groups exuded any sense of urgency. It wasn't much, but that helped settle Hawke's mind somewhat on the journey back to his home.

"Good morning, Messeres," Bodahn said as Hawke and Varric entered. "Orana is cooking breakfast," he added, though that was already apparent from the lovely smell of bacon and skillet potatoes that permeated the manor. Hawke and Varric returned the greeting, then headed toward the kitchen in a near run, their hunger roused by the enticing aroma.

"Hello Master and Master's friend!" Orana called happily as she pushed well-browned, seasoned potatoes into a serving dish. Merrill was with her, but her back was turned.

"Varric, Hawke!" Merrill exclaimed as she turned around.

"Oh... um... ah..." Hawke stumbled over his words. Varric was speechless. Merrill's tattoos were gone, her lips were painted bright red, and her eyes rested below huge swaths of green eyeshadow.

"I've never tried makeup like this before! It's quite extraordinary! Orana gave me a whole kit!" Merrill said, bursting with happiness and blinking her large, glinting eyes.

"Yes," Hawke and Varric both said as neutrally as possible, looking back and forth between the two elves.

"I thought it might cheer her up," Orana offered with a shy smile. "With the coin you provide Master, I have plenty of cosmetics to spare."

"But what about your tattoos?" Hawke asked, surprised that Merrill would cover them up so completely with foundation.

"At first I asked Orana to cover them on a whim," Merrill turned her head to the right and then the left to give the men a look from different angles. "But this makes a perfect disguise, don't you think?" Merrill beamed.

"You can say that again," Varric finally spoke. Merrill tilted her head and looked at the dwarf curiously, but did as he requested.

"But this makes a perfect disguise, don't you think?" Merrill repeated.

* * *

Hawke was finishing off his breakfast when he heard a knock at the door. His heart leaped into his chest as he got up, hoping that it would be Anders. Fenris would've simply entered on his own, though the elf was still in his thoughts, as well. With an apology on his lips, he quickly exited the kitchen, but was brought up short by the sight of Aveline.

"Morning Hawke. Please curb your enthusiasm for my morning visitation!" Aveline said with a slight smirk.

"Sorry. Morning Aveline. I had a bit of a situation with Anders last night. I was hoping it was him," Hawke explained.

"Actually, that's why I'm here," Aveline said calmly. Hawke's brows furrowed.

"Go on."

"One of my guardsman thought he saw Anders getting on a ship early this morning. A Rivaini vessel, the Pelican's Beak, I believe the name was."

"This man of yours is certain? He knows Anders?" Hawke asked quickly.

"He is and he does. Anders apparently helped his ailing sister with a difficult childbirth a few months back." Aveline looked like she was holding something back. Hawke motioned for her to continue. "That was enough for me to contact you in person. But there's more," Aveline fixed Hawke with a curious gaze. The mage could already see where this was going.

"He saw Fenris at the same ship," Hawke said. Aveline's brows lifted, but she nodded.

"Yes indeed. I really hope I haven't stepped in anything here. I mean, the two of them... they're not..." Aveline's voice trailed off. Hawke took a moment to get what she was saying.

"Two of them , what? Oh, no, no, no... there was an argument, and I think Fenris went to settle a score... oh... damn it, Fenris! I need to get to that ship!"

"It already left Kirkwall." Aveline scowled. "Unfortunately the guardsman who spotted them ended his shift soon after seeing Fenris."

"Hi Aveline!" Merrill called out happily as she walked out of the kitchen into the main hall with Varric beside her.

"Merrill!" Aveline's eyes went wide at the Dalish girl's radically new look. "You look... different."

"Different is good, right?" Merrill asked, her eyes suddenly wide with worry.

"Morning Red!" Varric cut in loudly. He gave Aveline a pointed look and shook his head.

"Morning Varric... and yes... different is good," Aveline caught herself in time. She glanced at Varric and Hawke, but the men just shrugged.

"Thank you! I'm going to help Orana clean up a bit. It's the least I can do for this!" She pointed to her beaming face, then spun on her heels and exited the room.

"I'm not _even_ going to ask," Aveline said as she watched the elf go.

"How long ago did the ship leave port?" Varric asked, bringing the trio back to pressing matters.

"No idea, but the harbormaster would know," Aveline answered while scratching her chin. "So... do you mind filling me in on what this is all about?"

"It's a long story," Hawke said.

"Tell me on the way to the docks. I've already had breakfast and today is my day off."

* * *

"Look who's here," Varric said as he, Hawke, and Aveline neared the harbormaster's post. Isabela was in a heated conversation with the harbormaster of Kirkwall and didn't notice her friends approaching.

"The papers were all in order! It's not my fault!" The harbormaster growled.

"It's a Rivaini Ruse! Of course the papers were all in order!" Isabela huffed angrily.

"Isabela? What's going on?" Hawke asked. The pirate turned to him with a surprised look.

"Oh... um..."

"I don't have time for this. I've done everything you asked of me. You're not getting a single silver back!" The harbormaster yelled and walked away.

"So, I woke up after your visit this morning with Varric," Isabela said to Hawke after glaring at the harbormaster for a moment.

"I'm surprised you remember that," Varric piped in.

"I can hold my liquor, thank you very much. I wasn't _that_ drunk." the pirate scoffed. "Anyway, I asked around, but no luck, sorry."

"So... what are you doing here?" Hawke asked.

"In the course of asking around about Anders and Fenris, I found out that one of Castillon's acquaintances, Montoya, was in port. I had a score to settle with him! I had paid the harbormaster good coin to inform me of any arrivals from the list I gave him. He totally missed this one, simply because Montoya was attached to a different ship than the one I provided on the list. The stupid man! I don't care about the names of the _ships_! Pelican's Beak or Osprey... it could be named Andraste's Arse for all I care-"

"Pelican's Beak?" Aveline interrupted her.

"Yes, what of it?" Isabela stopped her tirade and gave her a curious look.

"Anders and Fenris got on that ship earlier this morning," Hawke answered.

"What?" Isabela gasped.

"What's wrong," Hawke asked carefully. "Does this have anything to do with that _Rivaini Ruse_ you were yelling at the harbormaster about?"

"Um... yes..." Isabela hesitated. "Surely you've heard of it before?" Isabela asked with a nervous look.

"_Rivaini Ruse_ sounds like one of her sexual techniques," Aveline muttered dryly.

"Oh hush you!" Isabela muttered, then turned back to Hawke. "Let me explain. We Rivaini are born with the sea in our blood. We're the finest sailors in Thedas, and everyone knows it. We're a free-spirited lot-"

"Please tell me this is going somewhere." Hawke tapped his foot impatiently.

"We Rivaini like our independence," Isabela continued, refusing to be rushed. "Even if we're proud of where we're from, to sail under the flag of another nation isn't uncommon."

"So you and your countrymen are a mercenary lot. Yes, my association with you has made that quite clear. 'Coin before country' as you say." Hawke crossed his arms.

"Sometimes this is done openly. Sometimes it isn't. Sometimes a Rivaini ship can have an official charter and all the necessary documents for one identity, but be something else entirely."

"Isabela, please get to the point," Hawke demanded.

"The Pelican's Beak is a Rivaini Ruse. Montoya is actually the captain of the _Osprey_. The ship was built in Rivain, but its homeport is _Minrathous_."

"What are you saying?" Hawke's voice trembled, though understanding was written on his face before Isabela answered.

"The Osprey is a slave ship."


	6. The Captain's Charms

**Chapter 6: The Captain's Charms**

"Hah, you called me Hawke!" Anders chuckled as he continued to thrust slowly against Hawke's belly. He blinked, but the heat and friction against his groin caused his eyes to remain hooded. Anders moved in quickly for another kiss, but the other mage drew back. Undaunted, the nearly naked blond began to trace a slick trail with his tongue down Hawke's neck, taking a moment to flick at the brunet's adam's apple.

"Stop being such a cocktease and take this off," Anders whispered into Hawke's ear while running his hands impatiently down Hawke's armored chest.

"An... Anders?" Hawke gasped in a soft, utterly confused voice.

"Come on," Anders urged, but Hawke began to pull away.

"How... what..." Hawke whispered as he disentangled himself from the other man.

"Where are you going?" Anders whined as he reached for Hawke, but his hands passed through empty air.

"I have to... I can't... this can't be..." Hawke choked out in a panicked breath and stumbled away from the bed.

"Don't go!" Anders cried out, sitting up in the bed and reaching out for him. He watched in despair as Hawke reached the door and unlatched it. Anders got up off the bed, but his legs buckled underneath him and he fell hard to the floor just as the other mage opened the door. Hawke stopped for a moment to turn around.

Anders held one arm out for him, but then Hawke turned unsteadily on his heels and left the room. The blond tried to stand, but ended up rolling onto his back and staring at the flickering wall lamp. Anders glanced back at the empty doorway for a moment, before the entrancing lights above him pulled his attention back. Soon the disappointment over Hawke's departure faded away under the pulsating, dancing motes of light...

* * *

"Don't be long, Hawke," Aveline said as she hugged her friend tightly in front of the galleon that Isabela had won from Castillon.

"But that's how Fenris likes me!" Hawke scoffed. Aveline sighed loudly, but gave him a strong pat on the back, before stepping aside for Sebastian. The prince laughed.

"I don't know who is worse, Hawke! You or Isabela!" Sebastian grinned as he went in for his own hug from the mage.

"A conundrum to confound the greatest philosophers, indeed," Hawke joked as he hugged the prince tightly. After the embrace, Sebastian stood back and contemplated the other man in silence. Hawke's right brow lifted, but he waited for Sebastian to speak.

"I've never had a chance to say this, Hawke, but I'm a changed man because of you," the prince began.

"You have a better sense of humor?" Hawke rubbed his chin and looked the other man over.

"Well, on top of that," Sebastian smirked, then shifted on his feet slightly. "Starkhaven is a bit more... close-minded about certain things compared to Kirkwall."

"That's a frightening thought," Hawke interjected. Sebastian waved the comment off good-naturedly before his face became more serious.

"I was aware of men who took other men as lovers, but the things I was taught..." the prince's voice trailed off as he tried to find the words. "I'll admit, it disturbed me at first to discover that you were such a man. But getting to know you and Fenris... well, I've learned to recognize the bond between the two of you for what it is. Love is a gift in the Maker's eyes and you and Fenris are well-blessed."

"Who are you and what have you done with our mildly intolerant, yet ever-handsome Chantry lad?" Hawke stared at Sebastian in exaggerated shock.

"We haven't shared company much as of late, but I'll miss you all the same," the prince said with a shake of his head. "You and Fenris will be in my prayers. As will Anders. He's a decent sort, despite our differences."

"Keep talking like this and I'll _really _start to wonder where Prince Vael was spirited off to," Hawke grinned, but nodded. Sebastian and Aveline both rolled their eyes.

"Group hug!" Hawke suddenly yelled and pounced on them both with his arms spread wide.

* * *

"Emery! Make sure that the mast rigging is secure!" Isabela yelled from the quarterdeck at the redheaded Ferelden sailor closest to the massive wooden column. She then turned to a fellow Rivaini at the other end of the ship on the starboard bow. She waved to get his attention, then cupped her hand at her mouth to shout. "Diego! I want you, Mitchum, and Antoine to check every cable and line for rope rot! And I mean every single one!"

"Aye, captain!" The bare-chested sailor shouted back.

"Anything I can do to help?" Hawke asked, appearing at Isabela's right side with a long, gold-plated spyglass in his left hand.

"First off, give me that." Isabela reached for the optical device. Hawke smirked and tossed it to his right hand, then proceeded to twirl it in his fingers like a baton, just out of her reach.

"I need something to play with while you order all these sweaty, strapping sailors around." Hawke ran his fist up and down the length of the spyglass once, then gave her a quick wink.

"Good to know you have your mind on the important things in a time like this," Isabela said sharply, but her expression softened at the clouded look that passed over Hawke's face. It was sometimes easy to forget that his droll manner didn't preclude true concern.

"Sorry-"

"Don't apologize, I'm just a little on edge. Less than half the crew are men I've sailed with before, and Castillon got a bit lazy with maintenance. With a week, I could get the Cormorant in top shape, but we don't have that kind of time," Isabela explained. She nudged Hawke with her right shoulder and he nudged back.

"So you're keeping Castillon's name for the ship?" Hawke asked with a surprised look.

"I considered the Siren's Call II, but I didn't want to be reminded of that bad business with the desire demon. I know I've said it before, but sorry again for that lapse of judgement."

"You always come through in the end..." Hawke paused with pursed lips before adding, "_eventually_."

"You're a bad influence," Isabela said with a grin.

"The worst," Hawke replied with a smirk before a more serious expression crossed his face. "Thank you, Isabela. I can't tell you how much this means to me," Hawke offered, while bringing a hand to his hair. She watched his fingers card through the thick, dark locks and sighed.

"There was a time where I'd demand a hands-on demonstration of your appreciation," Isabela chuckled.

"Just hands? What about all the other _'things-on'_ I could demonstrate with?" Hawke waggled his brows.

"You insufferable flirt!" Isabela smacked him lightly on the side. "And you wonder why Fenris is so possessive!"

"It gets him riled up. I like him riled up..." Hawke trailed off with a chuckle, but as he looked off toward the sea beyond the harbor, a wistful look descended upon his face. Isabela awaited the inevitable wisecracks, but when none were forthcoming, she gave him a quick squeeze on his shoulder.

"We'll get him back. Anders, too. Castillon was a lot of things, but a bad judge of ships he was not. The Cormorant will sail fast and true. Even with the Osprey's head start, there's a good chance we'll beat them to Minrathous. And who knows, Lady Luck might even put our quarry right in our path."

"May the Fickle Lady shine on us," Hawke said sincerely with a nod. He glanced down the length of the ship to the gangplank where Varric and Merrill stood. Isabela followed his eyes and tilted her head.

"I'm guessing Orana is responsible for Merrill's new look," Isabela deadpanned.

"Astute observation," Hawke returned in the same tone. He and Isabela turned and looked at each other in silence, their faces completely blank. The pirate was the first to crack.

"She looks almost like one of Madam Lusine's girls!" Isabela burst out, unable to keep a straight face as she mentioned the proprietor of the Blooming Rose. She stopped all of a sudden, a look of contemplation on her face. "An apostate prostitute? An _apostitute_!" The pirate captain cackled. Hawke groaned and covered his face with the palm of his right hand. "Come on, admit it! That was a good one!" Isabela protested. Hawke looked up, but then movement on the pier caught his eye. A lone templar was pushing his way through the busy dock toward the ship. Varric and Merrill were busy in conversation and didn't notice the helmeted warrior's approach.

"I'll be right back," Hawke said over his shoulder as he hurried off the quarterdeck.

"Tell Varric to get his hairy pecs up here! I need someone who can appreciate my fine humor!" Isabela huffed with indignation.

"Aye, aye, captain!" Hawke turned for a moment and gave Isabela a proper salute that flourished instantly into one with a single finger. Isabela returned the rude gesture, though both of them were grinning.

"Fenris, you lucky dog," Isabela whispered to herself as her eyes roamed over Hawke's retreating form, his backside in particular. She finally shook her head and resumed barking orders to her sailors. The pace of activity that had slowed down during her conversation with Hawke instantly picked back up.

"Merrill?" A voiced called out hesitantly over the din. The Dalish girl didn't notice, but Varric nudged her and pointed over her shoulder. She turned and froze at the sight of a templar, who stopped dead in his tracks. "Merrill?" He asked again as he pulled his helmet off.

"Carver?" She said with a heavy exhalation of relief. The two sailors standing watch at the pier-end of the gangplank blocked his path.

"Don't care if you're a templar. None get on the boat without official business with the captain or her friends," one of the guards said.

"I'm a friend," Carver said quickly. The two men turned to Merrill and Varric, who both nodded. The sailors stepped out of the way and let the templar pass, his heavy-shod boots clanking on the thick wood.

"What happened... to your tattoos?" He asked hesitantly once he stepped onto the ship. Carver's blue eyes roamed all over Merrill's face.

"Oh... um..." the elf's voice wavered. "J-just trying a n-new look," she began to stutter.

"But they were beautiful!" Carver blurted out, his eyes widening at his unwitting admission.

"They're still th-there! J-just under a b-bit of m-m-make-up, th-that's all..." Merrill's voice trailed off as she watched Carver's cheeks turn crimson. Orana's heavy-duty foundation completely blocked the flush forming on Merrill's cheeks, but her long ears were bright red. The templar and the Dalish elf just looked at each other in silence. Carver glanced over at Varric, who motioned for him to continue, but he only gulped when his gazed returned to Merrill.

"Carver! So good of you to see your big brother off!" Hawke cut into the silence. His little brother's look of relief was priceless. Hawke wrapped his arms around Carver and pulled him into a big hug. Hawke then whispered into his ear, "thanks for helping Merrill out. I'm proud of you."

"Garrett..." Carver said in a halting voice, then closed his eyes and hugged his brother back. When the two pulled apart, he nodded at Hawke, then turned back to Merrill with renewed determination. "Merrill, a safe journey to you. Please accept this token of my goodwill and know that you will be in my thoughts," Carver said in one breath as he stepped forward and handed her a red, long stemmed rose from under his cloak.

"Th-thank you." Merrill's eyes remained wide, but she smiled as she took the flower in hand, taking care to avoid the thorns.

"The pleasure is mine," Carver gave her a polite, stiff bow. "I'll leave you to your preparations," he said, turning to go. Varric hurried over to him and grabbed his arm.

"Oh, no you don't! If your big brother gets a hug, so do I!" The dwarf demanded. Carver smirked, but acquiesced. The two patted each other roughly on the back then pulled apart. Carver looked back at Hawke.

"Good luck, brother," Carver said before walking back down the gangplank. He cast one last look at Merrill and then made his way through the crowd once more. Hawke watched him go with a smile on his face, then turned back to Merrill and Varric.

The dwarf was studying him, while the elf was looking just as intently at the rose in her hand. Merrill then touched her face as a look of supreme sadness lowered her eyes.

"I... I need to go wipe this off! Now!" She cried out and rushed away from her friends. Hawke and Varric both chuckled as she hurried to her quarters below deck.

"Carver saved the day, once again," Hawke joked. He had the biggest grin on his face, but Varric's just studied him again for a moment. "Do I have something hanging from my nose? Something caught between my teeth?" Hawke asked.

"I've just been watching you today," Varric stated simply. Hawke leaned back against a large crate of limes.

"Out of all these bare-chested, sweaty men, you single _me _out for ogling. I'm flattered," the mage said with a slight chuckle.

"In your dreams. You know, Hawke... it's okay to let us see something other than a smile, to hear something other than a joke," Varric said carefully. Hawke's smirk faltered.

"We all have our ways of coping," Hawke replied quickly. "It keeps me from dwelling on what an imbecile I was to let Anders walk away without finding out why. Neither Anders nor Fenris would be on that ship right now if I had been a better friend. Or a better lover. This is my fault..."

"Ugh!" Varric cut Hawke off. "There's plenty of blame to go around. Anders could have said goodbye without kissing you. Fenris didn't have to go chasing after him. If making light of the situation will keep you from saddling yourself with unnecessary guilt, then have at it." Varric turned and leaned against the crate, next to Hawke. Without warning, he poked the mage in the ribs.

"Hey!" Hawke yelped and poked back. Varric laughed and then the two burst into a sudden tickle-poke free-for-all. It only lasted for a few seconds when a throat cleared loudly, causing them to freeze. Both men blushed and pulled away from each other.

"Stop playing like giggling cabin boys and make yourselves useful," Isabela warned, but her tone was warm. She shook her head and motioned for her friends to follow.

"Thanks Varric," Hawke whispered as they trailed behind the pirate.

"Anytime buddy, anytime."

* * *

"Ser? Are you alright, ser?" A young male voice called down from above.

"What... where..." Anders mumbled as his eyes fluttered open. His vision blurred in and out for a moment, before he was able to focus on the cabin boy who stood over him. The Rivaini youth wore clothing suited for a pirate, only it was several sizes too large for his slight frame. The wall lamp had been snuffed out, but twin streams of bright sunlight illuminated the room from the two portholes to his left. The blond mage squinted from the light and covered his eyes with one hand. He let out a long, drawn-out groan.

"Ser, are you hurt? There's broken glass on the floor-" The boy was interrupted by the man's sharp intake of breath.

"Oh no. No, no, no. Damn it, Isabela!" Anders moaned as everything came rushing back in a blur. The memories of the fight with Fenris and his fumbling intimacy with Hawke collided. He shook his head in denial, but the conclusion was unavoidable. "Where's the elf?"

"What elf, ser?"

"Tall for an elf, white hair, bizarre tattoos, permanent scowl. Can't miss him." Anders gesticulated in the air with one hand, while the other remained over his eyes.

"There are no elves onboard, ser."

"Huh?" Anders spread the fingers of the hand shielding his face and looked up. This time the light didn't hurt quite as much and he slowly removed the hand entirely from his face. He saw the open door just past the youth. His eyes went wide as he immediately turned and looked at the bed. "Mab?" He rushed over and got on his hands and knees to look underneath. There was nothing. "Mab?" Anders shouted.

"That's an odd name for an elf, ser."

"I'm looking for my cat," Anders said with a rough shake of his head. The cabin boy was looking over at him, but quickly averted his eyes when the mage turned to him, still on all fours.

"Sorry, ser, I'll let you get dressed. I'm right next door," the cabin boy informed him with a slight tilt of his head toward the wall. Anders blushed, in part because he totally forgot upon waking that he was barely clothed, and also because the cabin boy must have heard a great deal from earlier in the morning. The youth walked out of the room and closed the door behind him quietly. Anders quickly threw on a pair of trousers and a light tunic. Unfortunately both were damp from the rain that had soaked the haversack, but at least they weren't dripping wet.

"I can't believe he left me with barely a scratch," Anders wondered aloud. Though, in retrospect, he recalled that at no point had Fenris drawn his sword. "Probably just wanted to give me a scare," Anders muttered as he slipped his feet into his wet boots. "Brooding bully," he added.

A glint of light drew Anders's eyes to the patch of broken glass on the floor. The flask had been small, so it wasn't a large mess. The liquid that it had contained had completely evaporated, leaving hardly any trace. "Isabela, if we ever meet again, it will be too soon!" Anders growled as the memories of kissing "Hawke" flew back into his mind. Desire for his friend warred in his head with the knowledge that he had actually been kissing Fenris.

"Must find Mab. Must. Find. Mab." Anders used it like a mantra to focus his thoughts away from what had happened. He readjusted the leather tie in his hair, then opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

"The door is open! I'm heading onto the deck," Anders called out as he passed by the cabin boy's room.

"Yes ser!" The youth answered. Anders heard the door open behind, but he kept walking, intent on finding his cat.

"Passenger on deck!" A voice yelled out before Anders had even fully emerged. Several Rivaini sailors turned to give him a once-over, but most just ignored him. He turned in the direction of the voice to find Enrique, the first mate, looking quite irritated. Anders used his left palm to shade his eyes, since the sun was now high in the sky.

"Hello Enrique," Anders said with sarcastic cheer and waved boisterously with his right hand. The first mate gave him a withering look.

"We're busy. Is there any reason you need to be on deck?" Enrique said as he walked up to Anders with a deathly serious look on his face.

"Is getting fresh air a crime?" Anders asked. "Hmmm... not so fresh anymore," he muttered as Enrique drew closer.

"You should go back to your room," the first mate replied with narrowed eyes.

"I'm trying to find-"

"The elf left the ship before we set sail," Enrique quickly answered.

"Yes and good riddance to bad rubbish. I'm actually looking for my cat, though," Anders said with a shrug. Enrique studied his face for a moment, then smirked unexpectedly. Anders wagered that was as close to a genuine smile that the man ever managed.

"Haven't seen it, but we certainly wouldn't mind it doing some ratting onboard. We lost our ship's cat when we dropped anchor in Kirkwall," Enrique said gruffly.

"No big loss, really," a deep, smooth voice asked from behind Anders. The mage turned around to find a handsome sailor with a clean-cut beard and piercing blue eyes. The contrast of his light eyes and swarthy skin was striking.

"Hello Captain," Enrique nodded.

"His name was _Surly_, and he certainly earned it. Mean old tom. The rats were better company," the captain of the Pelican's Beak joked.

"As you say, captain," Enrique said noncommittally. "I'll get back to work," he added before taking his leave. He nodded at the captain again and ignored Anders.

"Captain Enrique Montoya," the man said and extended his hand. "My men know me by my surname to avoid confusion with my first mate," he elaborated. Anders stared for a moment, before taking the hand and shaking it firmly. The short beard and the cut of his hair reminded Anders of Hawke, while the blue eyes were reminiscent of Carver. While Anders had never even been remotely interested in the younger Hawke, he had to admit that Carver wasn't half-bad looking. And the apparent amalgam of the brothers Hawke was quite easy on the eyes.

"Anders. Just Anders," the mage replied a bit too quickly.

"I thought I recalled my first mate refer to you as Connor?"

"Oh... yes... that's my middle name," Anders stumbled a bit over his words, having completely forgotten that he had used a false name when boarding the ship. He was about to say more, but decided any further attempt at explaining the discrepancy would only draw more attention to it. Besides, they had set sail, so the danger was past.

"Well met, Anders Justanders," Montoya said.

"Oh, sorry, no. It's not a last name... ah... you're just joking," Anders blushed at the wink that the captain gave him.

"If such simple things can make you blush, I fear for your complexion in the company of my men!" Montoya laughed and clapped Anders on the shoulder. The man was slightly taller than Anders with an impressive build, but he still moved with a certain grace. The tunic he wore was loose, but the breeches were tight enough that Anders had to make an effort not to look down.

"I'll be fine," Anders protested, though he suddenly found himself unable to meet the captain's gaze. He wondered if he was experiencing some sort of after-effect of the _Antivan fly_... or whatever it had been that Isabela had given him.

"So, I hear you're looking for you cat?" Montoya changed the subject graciously.

"Yes! Have you seen her? She's all-black and quite large for a molly," Anders looked back into the captain's eyes.

"Sadly, I haven't. But is she the only one you're looking for?" Montoya asked with a slight tilt to his head. When Anders only nodded, the captain continued. "Because our cabin boy, Esteban, had an interesting story to tell me this morning."

"Oh... that," Anders flushed again.

"He heard quite a racket. Perhaps a lovers' quarrel?" Montoya asked boldly.

"No! Not even! Quarrel, yes, but beyond that, just... No." Anders quickly protested.

"Esteban stayed in his room and never saw your guest. But... I'm guessing it was the incredibly rude elf that left the ship right before we set sail."

"Incredibly rude? Sounds like an exact match." Anders nodded emphatically.

"So, you and the elf..."

"It. Never. Happened." Anders said with widened eyes. Montoya beamed.

"For romances thrown by the wayside, that _is_ the best attitude!" The captain chuckled.

"No, I mean really-" Anders voice trailed off as the captain stepped a foot closer.

"So there would be nothing to preclude you from accepting an offer to dine with me tonight?"

"Oh... um... what?" Anders was totally flustered.

"Would you, Anders Justanders," the captain smirked, "do me the pleasure of dining with me tonight?"

"Uh... yes!" Anders blurted out as all thoughts of Mab and Fenris fell by the wayside.

* * *

"Don't worry. You know how cats are. They'll explore every nook and cranny, and you'll only find them when they're good and ready to be found," Montoya remarked before taking another bite of his marinated sea turtle cutlet.

"True," Anders agreed, feeling marginally better about his failed search efforts. He took a bite from the meat on his plate. He had felt a bit squeamish at first, concentrating on the stewed vegetables, but finally gave the turtle a try. He found it somewhat like a cross between tuna and chicken and not at all bad. The wine sauce certainly helped it go down.

"A ship this size certainly has plenty of places for her to hide. I just didn't want to poke around too much or get in the way," Anders added, seated across the small, but exquisitely carved mahogany table from the captain. The captain's quarters were not overly lavish, but it was obvious that Montoya had a liking for fine woodwork and carvings. The bed was large, and could easily fit two adult men with plenty of room to spare, Anders estimated, though he pushed that random thought from his mind almost as soon as it had entered.

"For the single passenger on this cargo ship, I've truly lucked out with one so well-mannered and considerate." Montoya smiled. Anders smiled back, but looked down at his meal. He felt rather self-conscious. He had packed in a rush, and the trousers and tunic he wore didn't feel adequate for a meal with a merchant ship's captain. Though, if Montoya minded in the least, he didn't let it show. In fact, he gave every indication to the contrary.

"I'm not sure well-mannered is quite so accurate. Give me time and inappropriate things just fall out of my mouth," Anders said with a nervous chuckle. The captain's eye noticeably shifted to look at the other man's lips. Anders gulped. "So... you don't see too many blue-eyed Rivainis," he blurted out.

"Or brown-eyed blonds," Montoya replied with a mischievous look. This time, Anders didn't look away as he had before, but held the captain's gaze boldly. A moment passed as soft brown eyes searched piercing blue. The captain suddenly pushed away from his chair and quickly walked around the table. Anders dropped his fork on the table as Captain Montoya quickly knelt down and gave the blond a hard, insistent kiss.

Before Anders knew it, he and the captain were both standing and pawing at each others' clothes, all while remaining locked at the lips. They only broke contact when the captain shoved Anders onto the bed. The blond fell onto his back, bare-chested with his trousers half-opened and revealing the top of his underclothes.

"So Anders? Have you ever been fucked by a pirate before," Montoya asked brazenly, his own chest bare and heaving with deep breaths.

"No... well, yes..." Anders thought of his night with Isabela. "I don't really remember much," he chuckled with a note of embarrassment. The captain smirked and began to unbutton his breeches. The impressive bulge under Montoya's hands had Anders wide-eyed.

"Well, Anders Justanders, you're going to remember tonight," the captain vowed with playful grin.

* * *

"Danarius's little wolf," a cold voice brought Fenris out of his fitful sleep. The acrid smell of unwashed bodies, piss, and worse assaulted elf's nostrils and brought him completely out of his slumber. The elf immediately stood, clad from the waist down only in his black underclothes. Chain links clattered loudly as they moved through the rings attaching them to the manacles over his wrists and ankles. Once his eyes adjusted to the lamp held a few feet away, he saw the taller man who had pointed out the room which Anders had rented. The other man, who was slightly shorter, was unfamiliar to him. Movement elsewhere in the room drew Fenris's attention. He could make out several other individuals, chained to the wall like himself. They were completely silent and their faces were indiscernible, but Fenris could sense their fear.

"Do I know you?" Fenris asked roughly, turning his eyes back to the men in front of him.

"Oh, where are my manners? Captain Montoya of the Osprey, your host on this fine journey to Minrathous," the man answered with laughter in his voice, not bothering to introduce his henchman. A visible tremor ran through Fenris's body, though his face displayed only hate, not fear.

"To what end? Danarius is dead! Killed by my own hand!" Fenris raged.

"Yes... Danarius is dead. Well done that. I must give credit where credit is due, even to an elf," Montoya said with a sneer. "None of his rivals have had the desire to chase after you, given the trail of bodies you've left in your wake. But be assured that many will be _most _interested in you when delivered right to the heart of the slave market."

"I am no slave!" Fenris screamed and lunged forward. The chains snapped taut with his face only inches from Montoya's. The captain didn't even flinch, apparently quite familiar with exactly how far the chains ran. The man next to him however had his hand on the hilt of his sword. The elf's lyrium brands began to glow, but so did several sigils on his manacles.

"No doubt you've already tried, but that won't get you anywhere. The manacles have been charmed and inlaid with lyrium. We always carry a set for magically-inclined slaves, but they'll hold you just as fast," the captain glanced at Fenris's bonds, then continued. "To think, a prize such as you... just falling into my lap. It's been quite a lucky day for me. And night," Montoya finished with a leer.

"Garrett Hawke..." Fenris felt the bile rise in his throat from the shame of bringing his lover's name into the situation. "The Champion of Kirkwall would pay far more for my safe return than any magister," the elf stated desperately.

"Ah yes, I've heard talk of the haughty elf who accompanies the Champion of Kirkwall. The elf who presumes status above his station! I care not for what the Champion would have for you. The magisters understand that slavery is far better-suited for your kind!"

"There are elf magisters, as well!" Fenris hissed in protest as he recalled the bitter memory of his sister Varania's plan to become one.

"A regrettable occurrence and not the natural order of things," Montoya muttered. The captain's eyes narrowed. "Still, I wonder if the Champion would be so keen to pay anything if he knew of your erstwhile lover."

"What?" Fenris whispered harshly and pulled his head back in surprise.

"I've had the pleasure of getting to know Anders. It's apparent that what was between you two was no more as of this morning."

"There was never _anything _between us!" Fenris growled. "What has he been telling you?"

"That you're nothing but a filthy slave that deserves everything coming to you," Montoya answered maliciously. With a shout, Fenris pulled back, then lunged again at the captain to no avail. Montoya sneered, then spat in his face, before turning and leaving the elf to be swallowed once more by the shadows.


	7. Confessional

**Chapter 7: Confessional**

_Months earlier..._

Hawke stood in front of the estate's writing desk, wearing his old, olive green smuggler's tunic and breeches. Midway through his year of servitude to Athenril's smuggling ring, she had given it to him as a surprise gift. He had convinced her that he absolutely loved it, but at the time, he wasn't all that fond of the color green. Hawke grinned at the memory. How time had changed things. Due to a certain someone and their beautiful eyes, green had quickly become his favorite color.

Hawke's thoughts were interrupted by a loud yawn at his feet. Rabbit was curled up on the floor, his left shoulder right up against Hawke's right leg. Hawke shifted over a bit to give the mabari some room, but Rabbit immediately scooted over just enough to maintain the contact. Hawke shook his head, but smiled, and returned to his task.

Hawke slowly perused his mail, which he had allowed to build up into quite pile on the desk. Bodahn had taken to reminding him about the mail every time he saw him. Even Orana had mentioned the mess and she was usually loathe to say anything that could be construed as criticism toward her employer. The servant girl was currently in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, which from the smell of things consisted of her signature goat roast spiced with sage and marinated in sherry, along with baked potatoes and rosemary. Bodahn was a passable cook, but even the dwarf agreed that Orana's skills in the kitchen were sublime. Hawke found it quite entertaining to watch her in the kitchen and see her normally mousy demeanor fall away before the calm determination of a well-trained cook. If it weren't for the pile of mail in front of him currently, he would be at the kitchen door at that moment, watching her at work.

Hawke's stomach growled loudly, which caused Rabbit to look up. The warhound cocked his ears and tilted his head.

"It was nothing, go back to sleep," Hawke urged his dog. Rabbit crossed his paws in front of him, but continued to look at his owner in silence. Hawke's stomach growled again, even louder this time.

"Rrruff!" Rabbit barked loudly, suspicious of the noise.

"Stop that," Hawke ordered, then added, "it's just my belly."

"Ruff," Rabbit barked again, but satisfied with the explanation, he lowered his head and closed his eyes once more.

Hawke had created three smaller piles in front of the main one. To the left went all the junk mail, including random herbal "manhood enhancement" notices, as well as the ubiquitous loan scam letters. To the right went all of his business correspondence, a hefty portion of which related to the mine he had taken full ownership of after Hubert's departure. Finally in the center, just below the original pile, went all his personal mail.

Hawke had just gotten into a good rhythm of tossing letters into their respective piles, when one brought him to an immediate halt. The envelope was on noticeably finer paper than the rest and when he turned it over, he saw a wax seal in the style of a Tevinter magister. Hawke's brows furrowed. Danarius had been dead for several months, but anything to do with Tevinter still unnerved him. He grabbed the letter opener off the desk and opened the envelope roughly enough to tear the corners. He pulled out the neatly folder letter, but as his eyes moved over the page, his expression quickly softened.

_**Dear Hawke,**_

_**It's Feynriel! I'd wager you're surprised to hear from me, especially given how long it's been. Over three years now, I think. Regardless, I hope this letter finds you well. I'm sorry it has taken this long to write, but my journey to Tevinter is an even longer story. That said, I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for not giving up on me. I'm much more in control of my dreams now. I was very fortunate to make the acquaintance of the incredible Magister Auric Aurelius only days after finally making my way through Nevarra to the Tevinter city of Solas. Have you heard of it? It's small by Tevinter standards, or so they say, and is in South Tevinter, close to the Nevarran border. **_

_**The stories are true about Tevinter. Mages are free here and people practice magic openly. You'd think I'd be overjoyed, but there are things that are not so great about my new home. Along with magic, slavery is everywhere here, as well. I can't believe I almost became a slave. Thanks for saving me then, too! The situation for elves in Tevinter is complicated to say the least. I'm spared some hardship, being only half elven, but it's hard for me to stomach how most elves are treated like dirt, unless they're magisters, and even then rude things are said about them just out of earshot. Magister Aurelius says the situation is even worse in the capital, Minrathous, but then again, he never has anything good to say about that city...**_

"I like the sound of this magister already," Hawke whispered to himself before continuing.

_**Oh! Speaking of Aurelius, he's a quarter elven! You'd never really know it by looking at him, but he's very proud of his heritage and works for the betterment of all elves of the Imperium, both slave and free. He's been writing a history book called the "Scions of Arlathan." It talks about the sage mages - haha, that rhymes! - of Arlathan and their legacy after the fall of Elvhenan. Naturally, it hasn't been a popular project in some circles, but Aurelius could care less...**_

Hawke looked up from the letter at the sound of the lock being turned in the main door to the manor. He folded the letter with its envelope and pocketed both just as Bodahn entered with Sandal in tow. Both dwarves held full burlap sacks in their arms and were breathing heavily from exertion. Rabbit ran over to them with a happy bark.

"Evening messere!" Bodahn called out as he and Sandal let the sacks drop to the floor.

"Evening Bodahn," Hawke greeted, but he could hardly be heard over the back and forth barking that had begun between Sandal and Rabbit. "Use your _inside_ barks, please!" Hawke chided them. The mabari and the young dwarf immediately obeyed, continuing at half the volume.

"I got a deal on Nevarran wheat flour and happened to find these, too!" The older dwarf tossed a tiny burlap pouch toward Hawke. The mage caught it expertly in his right hand and knew the contents without evening opening it.

"Orlesian figs!" Hawke beamed. "Bodahn, you're the best!"

"I try messere, I try. Here are the receipts for the goods-"

"Bodahn, we've talked about this before. I trust you with my money, there's no need for me to see every receipt."

"As you wish, messere, but I'm saving these anyway. If you ever need to see them-"

"Yes, I know, now let me take that to the pantry. You must be exhausted," Hawke offered.

"Whew... bless you messere, I have to take you up on that offer, as improper as it is for a servant to do so! These old bones just aren't what they used to be," Bodahn said while clutching his back with a slight wince. As soon as Sandal saw Hawke take a sack in hand, the young dwarf gave Rabbit a final pat and grabbed the other.

"Dinner will be served soon!" Hawke called over his shoulder.

"I need a soak before the soreness sets in!" Bodahn called back and headed to his quarters for a quick bath.

"Hello Master and Sandal!" Orana greeted them as the pair walked past the kitchen toward the pantry with their goods.

"Helloooooo!" Sandal sang back.

"Hello Orana! That smells wonderful!" Hawke exclaimed. With a slight grunt, he tossed the sack onto a low, sturdy shelf. Sandal followed his lead, then walked out while clapping his hands slightly and humming a tune. Hawke watched him go, then took a quick look at the pantry, since he hadn't really paid much attention to it in a while. Bodahn and Orana took care of stocking it, and from the full range of spices, grain products, cured meats, root vegetables, and dried fruits, they were doing a fine job without any input from the lord of the manor. Hawke smiled at his luck, then took a whiff of the Orlesian figs.

"I'll save the rest, but just one for now," he whispered to himself before loosening the draw string on the pouch and pulling out a fruit. He set the pouch alongside other containers filled with dried fruit, then took out Feynriel's letter. He walked out of the pantry and began to read it once more while chewing on the preserved fig.

"Hawke," a deep voice said in greeting.

"Maker's breath!" Hawke stumbled in surprise. "Don't sneak up on me like that! I almost choked on a fig!"

"My apologies," Fenris said with a slight growl that had Hawke's groin tingling instantly.

"Apology accepted, though there are much better things to choke on," the mage replied with a meaningful lift of his brows. Fenris offered a little grunt that Hawke now knew was akin to a chuckle.

"Who is that from?" Fenris's green eyes shifted slightly to look at the letter in Hawke's hand.

"Oh... ah, no one important," Hawke lied, remembering Fenris's rage at his decision to let Feynriel leave the Fade unscathed. That had been the cause of a massive row between them, something which Hawke was in no mood to revisit. He blushed slightly as he quickly folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Fenris's demeanor instantly cooled, but he didn't remark on the letter any further to Hawke's relief. The mage quickly closed the distance between them and placed a quick kiss on the elf's lips. There wasn't much enthusiasm on Fenris's part, but before Hawke could comment, both of their stomachs growled loudly.

"Two of a kind, our bellies," the elf chuckled lightly, while the mage laughed.

"Orana is almost done. Let's take a seat," Hawke said as he took hold of his lover's hand and walked into the servant's dining room. Orana was accustomed to her employer's preference for the smaller dining room and had already set silverware and plates down for him and Fenris.

* * *

Hawke pumped slowly into Fenris as he hugged the elf's legs to his chest. Fenris stroked his manhood as Hawke pushed in and out of him, but the rhythm was off. Fenris had seemed rather preoccupied all throughout dinner, and after retiring to bed, the foreplay had been rather brief and perfunctory.

Hawke hid his disappointment as best he could, and rallied with a rapid series of thrusts that had Fenris moaning softly until the elf suddenly clenched and began to spill his seed. Hawke came a moment later from the pulsating tightness of Fenris's orgasm around his cock. He pulled out slowly, and placed a gentle kiss on the elf's forehead, despite the beads of sweat, then moved down to his lips. They kissed quickly, then Fenris turned away.

"Sorry, it's been a long day. Good night," the elf said softly. Hawke frowned, then turned away, as well.

"Good night," he replied, pulling up the sheets to ward of the chill he felt.

* * *

Hawke awoke suddenly at the sound of shuffling next to the bed. He opened his eyes to see Fenris kneeling over the clothing Hawke had tossed aside before getting into bed. Fenris's back was turned and Hawke didn't make a sound he watched, confused as to what his lover was doing. The elf reached into one pocket, then the next, before Hawke suddenly remembered what he had left there.

"What are you doing?" Hawke asked sharply. Fenris paused for a moment, his hands on the letter and envelope, then stood up and faced Hawke.

"Seeing what you didn't want me to see earlier," the elf replied with a slight twitch of his jaw.

"I told you it wasn't anything important," Hawke replied, his voice rising slightly in anger as he sat up in bed.

"Somehow I doubt that. This paper is quite exquisite," Fenris shot back with a suspicious look. "You've seemed quite preoccupied lately," he added.

"You must be joking!" Hawke let out a supremely irritated laugh. "_I've _been preoccupied? I wasn't the one doing the impression of a dead fish in bed tonight!"

"Oh, so you're not satisfied with me?" Fenris growled.

"Honestly, tonight I wasn't."

"I see."

"What has gotten into you?" Hawke got up off the bed. He was naked, but didn't relish remaining so during an argument. He found his underclothes after a quick search and slipped them on, before looking back at the elf. Fenris was now skimming over the letter. In the few short months under Hawke's tutelage, the elf's reading had progressed a great deal.

"Feynriel? Now in Tevinter?" Fenris snarled. "And in the service of a magister from the looks of it!" The elf added bitterly as he studied the torn seal still attached to the envelope.

"Andraste's ass. Don't make me regret teaching you how to read..." Hawke whispered, more to himself.

"What was that?" Fenris growled, thankfully missing what his lover said.

"I do _not _want to argue with you tonight," Hawke raised his voice. "You were already in a mood about Maker knows what earlier!"

"We never finished our conversation about _this._" Fenris shook the letter at Hawke.

"Oh yes we did," Hawke muttered. "You wanted me... _me, _to make a fellow mage tranquil!"

"He wanted it! He begged for it! And now he's in _Tevinter_! He's a menace surrounded by evil men and women who will do their best to exploit him!" Fenris yelled and tossed the half-crumpled letter and envelope at Hawke. The mage caught the letter in hand, but the envelope fell to the floor in a fluttering tumble, landing with the magister seal in view. Fenris glanced down and narrowed his eyes.

"Read the letter before you cast aspersions on him!" Hawke shouted in return. He threw the letter back, but the angle caused it to catch the air and fall to the ground between them. "He's learned to control his dreams with the help of a kindhearted magister."

"There is no such thing as a kindhearted magister!" Fenris raged. "Only one who is an expert at appearing to be so!"

"Will you keep your voice down!" Hawke hissed.

"Feynriel was a mistake!" Fenris shouted even louder.

"I said I don't want to argue!" Hawke shouted back. The elf bared his teeth, then growled in anger and turned away. He quickly began to gather his things. "What are you doing?" Hawke asked with furrowed brows.

"Going home. I can't stay here tonight," Fenris replied.

"Fenris..." Hawke's shoulders slumped and his voice softened. "Let's not end the night like this. You don't have to go." He gently touched Fenris's shoulder, but the elf shrugged it off angrily. No further words were said as Fenris left.

* * *

Hawke stood in front of Anders's clinic. He knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer, but he thought he heard the sound of light shuffling. Hawke knocked again, louder this time.

"The clinic is closed!" Anders yelled irritably from beyond the locked door. Hawke sighed and hugged his arms to his chest, but didn't respond. He hung his head, turned, and slowly began to walk away. He heard the door being unlocked, and then light washed over him as it was opened.

"Hawke?"

"Anders," Hawke answered softly, his body still mostly turned away from the door, though his face was in profile.

"Sweet Andraste, Hawke! Why didn't you just say it was you?" Anders asked as he opened the door wider.

"The clinic's closed. I didn't want to bother you," Hawke answered, though he turned around completely. The blond mage was dressed in a dark blue night robe with silver accents, the colors a pleasing contrast with his fair hair and complexion. Anders tried to meet his eyes, but Hawke avoided eye contact and studied the points of silver on the other mage's clothing. Anders brows pinched slightly in confusion as he studied Hawke for a moment, but when Hawke's chestnut brown eyes finally lifted up and met his gaze, the blond healer's face broke into a soft smile.

"You're never a bother," Anders replied softly. Hawke found himself returning the smile, his dour mood lifting ever so slightly from the muted radiance of the blond's expression. "Now get inside before you catch a chill and require actual clinic services!" The healer demanded.

"Thank you," Hawke said with a nod as he walked inside. Anders closed and locked the door softly behind them. The clinic had been recently swept from the looks of it and was immaculate, but Anders's actual bedroom was anything but, judging from what Hawke could see from the open door to his far right. Anders followed his eyes and quickly shook his head.

"Ugh, don't look in there! It's a mess!" The blond mage chuckled and quickly walked over and closed his bedroom door. However, when he turned, he had a more serious expression on his face. "Hawke, what's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" The brunet replied with a shrug.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No," Hawke said bluntly.

"Okay then," Anders said with eyes widened in slight surprise. Hawke made an odd grunting sound and scratched his head.

"Sorry, let's both pretend that was my finely crafted impersonation of the Arishok," Hawke joked. The fleeting hint of a grin appeared on his face, which was mirrored by Anders, but the expression soon fled from Hawke. "Yes... I would like to talk about it. You're... the only one who would understand..."

"Mage matters?" Anders guessed. Hawke nodded. The blond pointed the brunet to a padded bench off to the side and against the wall. Hawke sat down and bent forward to rest his forearms on his thighs.

"You could say that. Remember that whole business with Feynriel three years ago?" Hawke asked, his eyes on the floor. Anders remained standing a few feet away.

"How could I forget? When you told me how Merrill and Isabela had betrayed you in the Fade... I..." Anders hesitated, then changed course slightly. "I'm sorry about not wanting to enter the Fade with you then. I should have, but I wasn't sure how things would be with Justice there... and well, I failed you."

"Anders, don't talk like that. You've always been a true friend. I will always trust you and your choices," Hawke said, looking up and locking eyes with the other mage. A clouded look passed over Anders's face for a second.

"As much as it pains me to say it, I'm glad Fenris was there with you," Anders remarked without even trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. "So what brings this unpleasant situation from the past back to light?" He asked. Hawke looked away and let out a deep exhalation while running both hands through his hair.

"I received a letter from Feynriel," Hawke answered finally. Anders's mouth opened in surprise. "He made it to Tevinter just like he said he would. He's a magister's apprentice," Hawke added.

"Well done, Feynriel, well done!" Anders beamed.

"Fenris read the letter," Hawke added. Anders's expression fell.

"Ah..." Anders rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "You had _another_ argument, didn't you?"

"I think it just brought back all his bitterness and hatred over Tevinter, Danarius, and Varania."

"Fenris needs to learn about this wonderful thing called 'moving on'," Anders scoffed. Hawke looked up with a slight smirk, recalling that Isabela had said something quite similar to Anders before.

"Do you have anything to drink?" Hawke asked suddenly.

"Certainly," Anders uncrossed his arms and turned away from Hawke, before pausing and looking back over his shoulder. "Water, milk, or hard liquor?"

"Liquor. The harder the better," Hawke answered with smirk. Anders blinked at that response, the hints of a blush coloring his cheeks before he turned away.

* * *

"Don't ever doubt that what you did was the right thing," Anders said as he refilled Hawke's cup, then his own. "Feynriel was a terrified boy who thought he didn't have any options beyond tranquility," he added as he took a drink.

"I wish Fenris could see it that way," Hawke remarked before taking another swig of the homemade whiskey Anders had told him a patient had bartered away for treatment. He wasn't that drunk, but he still spilled a bit on his olive green tunic. The liquor burned its way down his throat, but the sensation was almost cleansing. He couldn't help but smile at the warmth the alcohol spread inside him.

"He doesn't appreciate you," Anders said harshly, before his expression softened. "Sorry, I know you'd rather not have me rattle on about your lover's faults..."

"You do..." Hawke blurted out.

"I what?" Anders stopped with his cup resting right before his lips.

"Appreciate me," Hawke answered with a warm smile.

"That's what... friends are for," Anders replied hesitantly, but he nudged Hawke's thigh with his own. The contact was brief, but Hawke's eyes flickered over his friend's. The brunet nudged back with his thigh, but instead of pulling away, as Anders had, he left his leg flush against the other man's. Anders took a quick drink.

"You're always there for me," Hawke said softly as he turned to look at Anders. The blond was looking down at where their thighs were touching.

"I'm a healer. That's what I do," he said with an air of nonchalance, but Hawke could hear a slight tremor in his voice.

"You even tend to the wounds that can't be seen," Hawke added as he set his drink down.

"Hmmm?" Anders murmured, but his breath caught as Hawke placed a hand on his thigh. Anders looked down at the hand, then turned confused eyes on Hawke. The brunet said nothing, but began to stroke the blond's thigh ever so lightly. He started at the top, but soon ghosted over with his palm to stroke his thumb along the inner thigh. Anders almost dropped his cup, but he managed to set it aside on the bench without incident. He turned back to the brunet. "Hawke?"

"Anders..." Hawke replied in a hushed voice as he took hold of the blond's right hand and brought it to his crotch. Hawke hissed lightly as Anders's fingers immediately gripped his hardened length through his trousers. The palm on the blond's thigh moved up and Hawke soon had a handful, as well.

Hawke and Anders stared at each other as they mutually stroked each other through the fabric of their clothing. Ander's face was flushed, and for that moment, Hawke couldn't think of anything that looked more lovely. An errant lock of hair fell over Anders's brow, prompting Hawke to reach over with his hand and guide it behind the blond's ear. Anders closed his eyes and moved into Hawke's touch as if he were a cat being petted. Hawke stroked his thumb over one of Anders's reddened cheeks, then turned the mage toward him. The yearning on the blond's face was unmistakable and Hawke leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Anders exploded into movement at the contact, both hands suddenly cupping Hawke's face as he forced his tongue into the man's mouth. Hawke moaned under the force of the kiss and tightened his grip on Anders's manhood. And then as soon as it had happened, Anders pulled back. His lips were reddened from the bruising kiss they shared and he seemed to almost be glaring at Hawke. Both mages searched the other's eyes, when Anders slipped off the bench to kneel in front of Hawke.

Hawke's eyes widened as Anders pushed his legs apart and assaulted the buttons of his trousers. Before Hawke knew it, his cock was engulfed by Anders's mouth.

"Maker's breath, Anders!" Hawke groaned as Anders stroked his inner thighs with both hands, while swallowing and licking at his entire length. Hawke ran his hands through the other mage's flaxen hair, then gripped him and began to thrust forward. Anders didn't balk, but continued and matched his movements to Hawke's, letting the other mage go even deeper.

"Anders... Anders..." Hawke moaned over and over with his head leaned back. Anders took one hand off of Hawke's thighs and parted his dark blue robes. Anders soon had himself in hand and began to stroke, his mouth remaining on Hawke's cock without missing a beat. Hawke had no idea how much time had passed, but as he felt himself building to a release, his only thought was that it much too soon for the pleasure to end.

"Sweet Andraste!" Hawke yelled suddenly as his hips bucked. His cock began to pulse, but Anders still didn't remove his mouth. The sensation of Anders swallowing his seed was a sweet torture. Only when he was fully spent did Anders remove his mouth.

"Hawke!" Anders shouted as he came a second later, spilling his seed onto the floor between Hawke's feet. Both men slowly caught their breath. Finally Anders placed both hands above Hawke's knees and pushed himself up with a grin. He remained stooped in front of the other mage and leaned in for a kiss. Hawke immediately turned his head to the side.

"What's wrong? Is it because I swallowed? I can-"

"This was wrong," Hawke interrupted Anders with a trembling voice. He shook his head and quickly adjusted himself back into his clothing. Anders stood up fully, a look of supreme hurt on his face.

"I'm sorry... I..." Hawke's voice trailed off as he turned away from Anders's gaze, then stood up and quickly fled the clinic.

* * *

Hawke quietly locked the door behind him, then slowly crept up the stairs. He was slightly drunk, but his anxiety forced a great deal of sobriety on him. Nothing stirred in the manor as he quickly made it to his room and with a breath of relief, he closed his bedroom door.

"Hawke."

"Agh!" Hawke yelped. His heart raced as Fenris stepped away from the bed to stand before him. "Fenris! I thought..."

"I let myself in, though if you wish me to return the keys, I shall," Fenris said, avoiding Hawke's gaze and keeping his eyes low.

"I... that... that isn't necessary," Hawke stumbled over his words.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," Fenris said with sudden intensity and looked up at the mage with wide, sorrowful eyes. "I had no right to quarrel with you as I did earlier tonight. I... I was scared," the elf all but gasped. Hawke looked at him in confusion.

"Scared of Feynriel?" The mage asked, utterly bewildered.

"No... not Feynriel... he had nothing to do with it... I just... I lost my temper and lashed out. I was too embarrassed to speak of what truly troubled me," Fenris remarked with a hesitant breath. When he saw that Hawke was at a loss for words, he continued. "You are the Champion of Kirkwall. You have the city's respect and the adoration of many. I'm a former slave and an elf. There are many who desire you who have far more to offer..."

"Fenris, I want..." Hawke's eyes closed as his liaison with Anders flashed in his mind, "...I only want you."

"I know! You've said as much before... but... everyone I've ever known has betrayed me."

"Fenris, I..." Hawke's face burned in shame and he gulped for air.

"Even my own flesh and blood. But then there's you. The one man who is truly trustworthy, and I treat you like all the rest," Fenris turned his eyes away again as he continued. "The fine paper and envelope convinced me that the letter I saw in your hand was from a would-be suitor."

"Oh, Fenris," Hawke shook his head as understanding dawned on him for his lover's odd behavior even before their argument over Feynriel.

"The seed of doubt had fertile soil, and it quickly grew in my mind. I was angry at the imagined slight, and when I saw Feynriel's name, words left my tongue careless of thought."

"It's okay, Fenris." Hawke opened his arms and Fenris quickly buried himself in his lover's embrace.

"You're far too forgiving, Hawke." The elf's breath ghosted over the mage's neck as he nestled his head on the Hawke's shoulder. "I don't deserve it. I should have known you would never be unfaithful to me," he added. Hawke tensed and closed his eyes.

* * *

_Present..._

"Well, _that_ was horrible timing," Varric said with a scratch of his head.

"I just... I couldn't tell him about Anders after he said that," Hawke replied with a long sigh. He turned to see the dawn's light coming through the porthole of the room he shared with Varric. The two had stayed up as Hawke had recounted the night he had cheated on Fenris.

"Did you ever apologize to Anders?"

"Not in so many words," Hawke said with an embarrassed shrug. Varric frowned.

"So that means no."

"Correct," Hawke answered. He was about to say more, but Varric threw his pillow at the mage with a disgusted grunt.

"Blondie deserves better than that you know. When we find him, the first thing you're going to do is apologize for being an ass... or I'll kick your ass," Varric promised.

"I know, I know-" Hawke was interrupted by pounding on the door to their room.

"Hawke? Varric?" Merrill called out. Hawke and Varric both leaped out of bed, still wearing loose tunics and trousers. Hawke opened the door. Before he could even ask, Merrill quickly said, "there's a ship on the horizon!"

Hawke said nothing as he raced out of the room and was on the main deck in a flash. He saw Isabela handing one of her sailors her golden spyglass. The man compressed the device and tucked it into his belt.

"Well that was fast!" The pirate captain chuckled as she turned to Hawke.

"Where is it?" The mage gasped as he caught his breath.

"There," Isabela pointed to a small speck to the north.

"I can barely see it," Hawke said with squinted eyes.

"Diego here is going to take a closer look from the crow's nest," Isabela motioned to the sailor in question as he began to ascend the main mast that held the lookout platform near the top.

* * *

"Ah, there you are," Captain Montoya purred as he came up alongside Anders, who was leaning against the railing on the starboard stern. It was an area with little activity at the moment, as most of the sailors on duty were at the front of the ship.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you. You're the captain of the ship, you need your rest more than I do."

"What I need is to be balls-deep in that delectable Fereldan ass of yours," Montoya growled with a smirk and cupped Anders's rump. Anders coughed at the bold statement. He thought hard on what to say in return, when something caught his eye. In the soft dawn light, he could just make out a ship far to the south of them.

"Do you see that?" Anders pointed.

"Don't try to change the subject," Montoya laughed and moved closer.

"No, really!" Anders insisted. The captain sighed, but decided to humor his new lover. He soon frowned.

"Esteban!" Montoya shouted at the cabin boy, who was busily swabbing the deck with a few of the older sailors.

"Yes ser?" The youth came running over.

"Get to the crow's nest and see who sails to the south of us," the captain ordered and handed his spyglass to the lad. Esteban nodded and ran over to the mast.

"You seem worried," Anders wondered. "You think they might be pirates?"

"Probably nothing to worry about, but it is always best to keep informed," Montoya chuckled, but it seemed a bit forced. The two of them turned to watch as Esteban scampered up the handholds on the wooden column, the spyglass tied to his belt with a leather string. He reached the lookout platform and put a hand over the high railing when he screamed in fright.

"Mrrrow!" Mab howled as she leaped out of the crow's nest and flew right by the youth's face. Esteban tumbled backward, losing all hold on the mast and platform.

"Mab!" Anders yelled, running forward as the black cat fell at an angle from the highest point of the ship. With her claws extended, she caught hold of one of the large ropes running from the mast to the deck. Unfortunately, Esteban was not so lucky. He did a full somersault in the air, before crashing into the hard wooden planks below. There was a loud snap upon contact and the boy screamed again.

Esteban's cries drew Anders's attention away from Mab momentarily. It was a sickening sight. Esteban's right leg was broken, with the bone below his knee protruding through his flesh. Blood was pouring from the wound profusely. Captain Montoya was at his side and was shouting orders at his men. Anders turned to see Mab scampering down the rope and he tried to intercept her, but she jumped off of it well before he got near. Several nearby sailors made a grab for her, knowing Anders had been looking for her since their departure, but she dodged them all and disappeared below deck in a black blur.

"Look at what your damned cat did!" Montoya growled in fury. Anders whipped back around and met the cold blue stare. His heart skipped a beat under the angry gaze, but he approached the captain and his injured cabin boy with a clear purpose in mind.

"I can help! I'm a healer!" Anders exclaimed quickly as Captain Montoya removed his belt and used it as a tourniquet to staunch the flow of blood from Esteban's wound.

"I think we'll need more than just poultices and herbs!" Montoya spat in anger. Anders took a deep breath. He couldn't bear to see the cabin boy suffer and possibly die, and so he spoke quickly before he could change his mind.

"I'm also a mage."


	8. Red

**Chapter 8: Red**

Fenris continued to curse and rage at his captivity long after he was plunged back into darkness. His wrists and ankles were bands of intense pain as he struggled against his bonds in a berserk fury. As his bones ached, he ran the risk of seriously injuring himself, but slowly his strength began to fade. He had no idea how long he had been on the ship, but his stomach was empty and a wave of lightheadedness caused him to stumble awkwardly to the wooden planks underfoot.

The rattling of the chains soon ceased and Fenris's rage was overtaken by an almost paralyzing despair. A sudden, strangled cry tore out of his throat, and then like a dam bursting, hot tears poured from the elf's eyes. Fenris's entire body shook and shuddered. The lines of his lyrium brands flared from the emotional outburst and began to pulse in time with his racking sobs. All of his fears were centered on this, the loss of his freedom. For it to come so unexpectedly, and yet by his own devices, was too much to bear.

"Save your tears, friend," a soft male voice called out from the darkness. Fenris was startled by the sudden reminder that he was not alone in the cargo hold. The burning shame at his loss of control in the presence of strangers staunched Fenris's tears and his lyrium tattoos grew dark once more. The voice added sensibly, but gently, "the water is precious and there is no telling when any of us will receive our next drink." Silence reigned after the statement until Fenris collected himself.

"Who are you?" Fenris asked once he trusted that his voice would bring him no further shame. It sounded raw and rough, but the trembling was barely noticeable.

"My name is Lanreth, friend," the answer came from the darkness ahead of him and to the left.

"I'm not your friend," Fenris remarked quickly, but without rancor. He was merely stating the fact.

"Just an expression of speech I save for fellow elves, Fenris" Lanreth replied.

"Yes, because friendship with other elves was always high on your list of priorities," another male voice growled nearby.

"Not now, Tieral," Lanreth said with a sigh.

"How do you know my name?" Fenris asked with a note of worry in his voice.

"You're well known to the elves of the Alienage, _Ser Fenris_," Tieral cut in. "Though, as the Champion of Kirkwall's pet, you've always been too high and mighty to spare any of us even a glance all these years. You and that snobby Dalish bitch both," the angry elf added. The bitter voice stung Fenris's ears. "So tell me _Ser Fenris_, did Hawke tire of your ass and sell you in favor of another elf to fuck?"

"Hold your tongue or I'll rip it from your mouth," Fenris growled, his lyrium brands pulsing again.

"There's nothing you can do-"

"Shut up, little brother! This is not helping anyone!" Lanreth ordered sharply, cutting Tieral off. "Forgive him. He doesn't recognize a possible sign of our salvation, though it literally glows in front of him."

"You heard the captain. He can't escape, despite those marking of his," Tieral protested. Fenris hung his head low.

"What are those exactly," Lanreth wondered aloud. "We've all heard stories about them, but-"

"They are a mistake," Fenris muttered. "A costly, bitter one," he added. When nothing was said immediately in response, Fenris continued. "Your brother is right. Had these been normal chains, I would already be free. I am as certain a prisoner as you."

"But you are dear to the Champion of Kirkwall! Surely he will seek you out and demand your freedom, either with coin or blood?" Lanreth argued.

"He doesn't know where I am," Fenris answered hesitantly, barely managing to hold back another wave of sorrow.

"So, is it true what the captain said? About another lover?" Lanreth asked carefully.

"No!" Fenris shouted loudly. There was some movement all around him as other captives were startled by his outburst, but as of yet, they chose not to speak. "That man, Anders, is my _rival_ and he sought to make a claim on the Champion of Kirkwall, in full sight of me."

"Ah, so he lured you here to remove his competition," Lanreth assumed.

"Ah... um... not exactly," Fenris hesitated. "You heard the captain. My capture had not been planned, at least not in advance. But as you also heard, Anders knows of my fate and does nothing. There was never any love lost between us, but for him to stoop so low..."

"Then what were your plans in following him to this ship?" Lanreth asked.

"I... don't know. Part of me wanted to kill him. At first, I was so angry, I saw red. But by the time I was face-to-face with him on this ship, my emotions had cooled. I still wanted to punish him, though. I decided that a sound beating would put my mind at ease," Fenris admitted. "That no longer will suffice, of course," the warrior added with a snarl.

"No doubt," Lanreth agreed. "Still, even if the Champion didn't know of your plans, he is a resourceful man."

"That he is," Fenris concurred, a spark of hope igniting in his heart. "You're right. He won't rest until I am found."

"Excuse me if I remain skeptical," Tieral muttered in the darkness. The three elves were silent once more, until a question came to Fenris's mind.

"How were you captured?"

"We were duped," Lanreth answered. Tieral said nothing, but gave a harsh snort. "Word spread that the cargo ship known as the Pelican's Beak was offering reduced rates on passage to Rivain. Things have never been the same for elves in Kirkwall after so many of us rebelled during the Qunari invasion-"

"As if _Ser Fenris_ ever noticed-" Tieral cut in.

"Shut up, Tieral," Lanreth growled, then continued after a deep breath. "Many of us... less fortunate elves... decided it would be better to set out for other lands. It took several years, but my brother and I slowly saved our money. Other families did the same. When we heard news of passage to Rivain, we jumped at the chance."

"Because Rivain has always been at peace with elves," Fenris interjected with a nod, even though he knew he could not be seen in the dark.

"Exactly! I've heard there is even a semi-permanent Dalish settlement outside the city of Llomerryn!" Lanreth remarked with excitement, before his voice returned to its colder tone of resignation. "With a Rivaini captain at the helm, we... _I_ let my guard down."

"Yes, you did," Tieral spat.

"The captain is Rivaini?" Fenris blurted out in bewilderment once the information sank in. By the light of the lamp, it had been difficult to discern his captor's skin tone, but his eyes had been quite light in color. "I'd never expect a Rivaini to hold elves in such contempt!"

"Because all Rivaini love us, while all non-Rivaini hate us?" Lanreth asked rhetorically. "I should have been more cautious, but the desire for a new home clouded my judgement."

"But why? Human slaves can bring in as much coin as elves," Fenris pondered.

"Does it really matter?" Lanreth asked. The silence that greeted him in response was his answer.

* * *

"I'm a mage," Anders exclaimed. Several sailors stepped slowly away, but Enrique and Captain Montoya merely shared a quick look before the captain nodded.

"Then, by all means, help this young man!" Montoya barked.

"Enrique, I need your belt," Anders ordered, a calm descending upon him as his instincts as a healer took over. The sailor balked for a moment, until his captain swatted him on the side.

"Do as he says!"

"Here..." Enrique grumbled as he yanked his belt off and handed it to Anders, who now stood right over Esteban. The boy was no longer screaming, but was instead making pitiful mewling sounds that sounded more like a wounded animal than a human being.

"Open his mouth," Anders said to the captain as he doubled the leather belt back on itself to form a thick, layered strip. Montoya obeyed, and forced Esteban's clenched jaws apart. Anders knelt next to him and shoved the leather in the boy's open mouth. Anders nodded to Montoya, who let go. The cabin boy immediately clamped his teeth onto the leather tightly.

"I need several of you to hold him down!" Anders shouted. Montoya lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers impatiently. The closest sailors complied and several strong hands grasped Esteban and held him firmly against the deck. Anders whispered a quick spell and placed his hands gently on Esteban's stomach. The boy had his neck craned up and he watched in fear as a soft blue light spread from his belly to encompass his body. Two of the sailors almost backed away were it not for the sharp reprimand that Captain Montoya gave them in the form of a growl. "That will dampen the pain somewhat," Anders whispered as he then placed his hands on Esteban's wounded leg. Blood ran over his palms and continued to seep onto the deck in a wide swath of red.

"What are you doing?" Montoya asked hesitantly.

"I have to set the bone back in place before I can mend both it and the flesh," Anders answered, glancing first at Montoya and then to Esteban. "I'm going to count to three. On three I'm going to realign your leg," the blond healer added. The cabin boy met his eyes and nodded. "One-"

Anders burst into action well before the count of three. He quickly moved his hands and forced the exposed bone back under the skin. Esteban's head slammed back against the deck and his whole body jerked as he cried out in pain through the leather strip in his mouth. Anders calmly gave the leg a slight twist and brought it back into line with the other half, causing Esteban to pass out completely from the pain. The healer spoke clear words of magic, in a strong, even voice. His hands burst into blue light, far brighter than before, and right before everyone's eyes, the skin of the wound knitted back together and the blood ceased. Anders continued to chant and then his own body jerked as the radiance blinked out.

"His leg is whole once more, but he'll need rest for the blood loss," Anders stated as he began to stand up. "He... should make a full... recovery..." Anders's voice trailed off as he stumbled to the side. He would have hit the deck, but instead found himself caught in a strong embrace.

"Anders, are you okay?" Captain Montoya asked, his eyes filled with concern.

"Yes, I just need to catch my breath, that's all," the blond replied as he tried to stand, but the dark-haired captain shook his head.

"Allow me," the blue-eyed Rivaini smiled at the mage, then readjusted one arm so that it looped under Anders's knees. Montoya then stood up, with Anders held in his arms, close to his chest. "Bring Esteban to the room across from mine," the captain ordered over his shoulder as he began to walk to his quarters bearing his lover.

"Really, this is not necessary," Anders protested with a blush coloring his cheeks.

"Humor me, Anders Justanders," Montoya smirked, then brought his mouth close to the healer's right ear. "I always knew you were special from the first moment I saw you," the captain whispered.

* * *

"But do you think it's wise?" Anders heard a familiar voice ask from outside the room. The blond blinked his eyes, then looked around. He was in the captain's room, on his bed to be exact. Anders quickly looked himself over, half-expecting to be naked, but then remembered that he had dozed off for a nap after the captain had brought him to the room.

"You always have something to say about my romantic choices, Enrique," Montoya whispered harshly, right outside the door, drawing Anders's attention, though he remained in bed. "I'm starting to think you might be jealous," the captain added with a harsh laugh.

"Don't be daft, captain! You know my tastes lie with the daintier flesh of women, though I do not begrudge your tastes in general. Only in _particular._"

"And just what are you saying?"

"Your weakness for fair-haired men will be your undoing. First you fell head over heels for that Antivan elf with the sharp mouth and even sharper blades. And now a mage?"

"First of all, that damned elf was _years_ ago! Second of all, not all mages practice the healing arts. A healer onboard is an incredible boon!" Montoya scoffed. "You saw what Anders did with Esteban!"

"Something which was his fault, by virtue of his cat," Enrique argued.

"Don't be ridiculous. It was an accident that no one could have predicted."

"Regardless, should I have the cat killed once it is found?" The first mate of the Pelican's Beak asked matter-of-factly. Anders froze at the question and stared at the door as he listened for the response.

"I should strike you for even suggesting as such! Weren't you the one complaining the most about our rat problem?"

"There are no rats in the crow's nest," Enrique remarked blandly.

"Don't test my patience, Enrique. Inform the sailors to bring the cat to Anders _unharmed _should they come across it. Otherwise, let's turn our attention to more important matters, such as the ship to the south of us."

"Aye sir," Enrique answered. Anders heard the shuffle of movement, and then the sound of retreating footsteps. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at eavesdropping, but it was a small price to pay to hear more proof of his good fortune in the form of Captain Montoya. He waited until he could hear no further movement outside, then stretched and yawned before getting out of bed and making his way to the door. He opened it slowly, then peered down both ends of the hall. It was empty.

Anders closed the door to the captain's quarters and was about to head out to the deck, when he heard a soft moan coming from the door opposite him. He walked across the hall and tried the knob. It was unlocked and he peeked inside, suddenly recalling the captain's orders regarding the cabin boy. Sure enough, Esteban was stretched out on one of the two small beds in the otherwise unfurnished room.

"Ser?" The youth asked, turning his head and meeting Anders's gaze.

"Shush," Anders gently bade Esteban as he walked toward the bed. "You need to rest."

"Ser... thank you, ser. I was sure I was done for..." Esteban said weakly.

"Please, Esteban, my name is Anders. Just call me Anders," the mage said softly as he reached over to check the youth's forehead with the back of his hand. Anders chewed his lip at the slightly elevated warmth he felt, but he consciously avoided frowning, given that his patient was watching him. The side effects of magical healing were generally mild for most individuals, but a rare few developed stronger ones such as a high fever. The temperature Anders felt wasn't an immediate cause for concern, but he made a mental note of it nevertheless.

"Thank you... Anders," Esteban said with a soft smile. The expression quickly faded though, as the boy suddenly fixed the mage with a tense look. Anders's brows furrowed in concern.

"What's wrong, Esteban? Do you feel too warm?" Anders asked. "Or are you feeling pain in your leg?" He glanced down at the limb.

"Do you like elves, Anders?" The cabin boy asked out of the blue. Anders blinked in surprise and looked back up at Esteban. He found the question odd, but decided to humor the boy's line of thought.

"I find some in particular to be incredibly irritating," Anders began, with a clear image of one elf in mind, "but on the whole they're people like everyone else. Some good, some bad, and most somewhere in-between."

"I..." Esteban searched Anders's eyes with an intensity that had the healer wondering if somehow the fall had affected the boy's head. The young man gulped, then turned his face away.

"Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing. My head hurts. Forget I said anything. Please," Esteban requested softly.

"Alright. Not to worry, just get some more rest," Anders assured him. He was about to say more, but then he heard shouting from above. He could just make out Captain Montoya's voice, though the actual orders being issued were indiscernible. With his curiosity stoked, Anders gave Esteban a final, parting rub on the shoulder, then quickly left, taking care to close the door as quietly as possible. He then strode down the hall and ascended the wooden steps to the deck.

"At each shift of deck crew, I want the position of that ship recorded!" Captain Montoya yelled over the hustle and bustle of his sailors as they rushed to and fro. His jet-black hair was covered by a dark blue bandana that accentuated the color his eyes. He turned and saw Anders and his expression softened just a bit.

"What is it?" Anders said as he quickly walked over. He looked past the Captain's shoulder to see the tiny speck of a ship he had noticed earlier. In the muted hues of dawn light, it had been hard to tell the colors of the other ship's sails, but now he could clearly see that they were red. He glanced back at Montoya for the answer.

"It's a Qunari warship."

* * *

"What's the verdict?" Varric asked as he and Merrill reached Hawke's side.

"Don't know yet," the mage answered as he kept his eyes on the sailor in the crow's nest, spyglass extended toward the horizon. The man finally lowered the telescope and leaned over the edge of the platform.

"Captain, it's a Qunari warship!" Diego yelled down at Isabela.

"What? Are you sure? Because this is no time for your jokes, Diego!" She yelled back before sharing a worried glance with Hawke.

"I swear Captain! That ship is definitely flying the red sails of the hornheads!" Diego answered confidently.

"And you're sure the ship is on a northerly course?" Isabela shouted back.

"Positive!" Diego answered after taking another quick look through the spyglass.

"All hands on deck! We're changing course!" Isabela ordered. She lifted one hand and spun her finger for emphasis before pointing to the west.

"What?" Hawke blurted out.

"You heard me, Hawke. We're changing course," she answered, before shouting to her men, "toward the coast!"

"Wait! Won't we lose time?" Hawke asked with a worried glance. "That ship is sailing in the same direction, we should be fine."

"Need I remind you of certain events in recent history, Hawke? I have no desire to fulfill anymore demands of the Qun. We're avoiding that ship at all costs!"

"But Fenris and Anders are somewhere north of it! Maybe _just_ north!" Hawke balked desperately. He was so sure that the ship was going to be the Osprey that he couldn't quite let go of the notion that maybe their quarry was closer than anyone else thought.

"Hawke, you're a lot of things, but you're no seer. I'm not going to risk the Cormorant after only just gaining her from Castillon!" Isabela snapped angrily. Hawke narrowed his eyes.

"Isabela, I can't explain it, but I just have a _feeling_-"

"I have a feeling, too!" The pirate cut him off abruptly. "And that feeling is _Irritation _with a capital 'I'! I'm more than happy to follow your lead on land, but we're at sea!" Isabela retorted with an angry sweep of her hand. She turned to look fully at Hawke while her men bustled around them to follow out her orders. She then smirked, though her voice remained firm. "My ship, my rules!"

"Fine!" Hawke relented, before muttering, "you always did have to be on top..."

"Too much information," Varric said with a shake of his head.

"Too much information about what?" Merrill asked as she glanced back and forth between Isabela and Hawke."

* * *

"Qunari?" Anders's eyes went wide. Just the word sent a shiver down the mage's spine as the memory of the Qunari mage named Ketojan crept into his mind. Anders would never forget how the _saarebas_ had immolated himself in deference to the Qun, even though he had been set free. Even when the control rod of his _arvaraad_ had been smashed, allowing Ketojan to speak, Anders would never forget the sickening sight of the thick thread that had been sewn between the Qunari mage's lips.

"Don't worry, we'll keep well ahead of them," Captain assured Anders, but the mage couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had fallen upon him.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Anders asked as he watched the sailors busying themselves on the deck.

"Any chance you can move the winds in our favor?" Captain Montoya asked sincerely. Anders shook his head sadly.

"I've known mages who could bend the wind to their will, but unfortunately I am not one of them," he admitted.

"Well in that case, it might be best if you keep clear of the deck for the next few hours," Montoya said gently. "The wind has been capricious and we'll need a bit of maneuvering to continue our course."

"I understand," Anders tried not to let the disappointment show in his voice, but at that very moment, as the only non-sailor on board, he felt particularly useless. Captain Montoya caught the tone. He barked a few orders to several passing sailors, then fixed his gaze back on Anders.

"I meant to ask you this over dinner, but I suppose there's no harm in doing so now," the corners of the captain's lips pulled into a slight smirk.

"What is it?" Anders asked with both brows raised.

"I quite like the idea of returning to my quarters to find you there. On a regular basis. My room is your room if you wish it to be so," Montoya smiled. Though the captain was all swagger and rakish charm, Anders could see just the hint of anxiety in the clear blue eyes. That sealed the deal for the blond mage.

"I wish it to be so." Anders smiled. For a second he half-expected Justice to balk at the pace of the new relationship, but so far, the spirit had been quite laconic in such matters. He wasn't exactly sure what Justice had against Hawke, but Anders was relieved that he wasn't of two minds when it came to the captain of the Pelican's Beak.

"Wonderful," Captain Montoya beamed.

"I suppose I should get my things. I'll leave you to your duties," Anders said as his heart did a little flip. "You know where to find me," he added with a wink. The captain chuckled and waved in farewell, then turned his attention back to his crew.

Anders began to make his way toward the forecastle at the opposite end of galleon, under which the crew and passenger quarters were located. He made sure to keep out of the way of the busy sailors, but they paid him no heed as they set their mind to their various tasks. He soon stepped down the short set of stairs, then walked down the narrow hall to his original room. A shadow moved in the corner of his eye just as he was about to open his door. He turned to see the quick flash of a black cat tail disappear down a hatch he hadn't noticed before at the far end of the hall.

"Mab!" Anders called out as he rushed over. The hatch had a ladder that extended down about the length of a man's body to another floor. There were no portholes and the area below was dark. Muttering to himself, Anders nevertheless scrambled down the ladder. He chanted a few words of magic once he stepped off of the ladder and his left hand burst into a soft blue light. Unlike above, this floor didn't have a hall, but spread out in all directions from the ladder. There were various crates stacked all around, but there was plenty of room to step between them. Movement drew his attention once more and when he turned, the light from his hand was reflected in Mab's eyes. She blinked, then darted around the crates to his left.

"Here kitty kitty! Here kitty kitty!" Anders cooed. He heard the skittering of claws to his right and turned, only to see several large rats scurry out of sight. "You know Mab, you're not exactly doing a great job down here!" Anders groused with a shiver. He turned back to his left and walked over to where he had last seen her. He reached the spot only to see yet another hatch leading downward into the ship.

"Mab... this is no time to play hide and seek!" The mage muttered. He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and went down the next ladder. The floor was much closer to the ceiling on this level and Anders could easily touch the ceiling with his unlit hand.

"Mrrrow!"

There was a burst of movement all around him as Anders heard and saw even more rats dart away from the sound of the cat. His skin crawled and his resolve was quickly fading.

"Mab, now stay right there!" Anders demanded as ignored the sounds of the fleeing rats and turned his light in the direction of her meow. The black cat was sitting on her haunches above a large metal hatch, with a formidable latch longer than his arms and a lock easily twice the size of a fist. Whatever was down below, it was clear that it was valuable. Anders walked quickly over and picked her up.

"Mrrrow!"

"Are you done being a bad girl?" Anders chided her, even while nuzzling the cat against his cheek. She purred, then licked his nose. He pulled his head back a bit, both from the raspy, sandpaper feel of the cat's tongue, as well as the smell. "Okay... maybe you _have_ caught a rat or two!" Anders chuckled as rubbed his nose. "Alright, let's get out of here," he said as turned for the ladder.

"Hey!" Anders called out as Mab suddenly twisted from his grasp and jumped out of his arms. "Mab, this isn't funny anymore," he said as he began to shine the light all around him. The only thing he saw were rats scurrying one way or the other in their attempt to avoid the illumination. "Alright, be that way! I'm going back up!" Anders huffed, having had enough of the dark and the rats. "Andraste's ass, I should have brought her carrier down with me," the mage grumbled as he turned back to the ladder.

* * *

Anders opened the door to the captain's quarters and set his haversack and wooden box down. The box was empty. He had considered going back down after Mab, but chances were, she was already in a different part of the ship. From the crow's nest to the underbelly of the galleon, Anders guessed that she probably thought it was all some gigantic playground. Anders blew an errant lock away from his brow and looked around the captain's room... his room now, as well. That single thought quickly had him mulling over other possibilities that he hadn't dared voiced to himself before then.

"_Rivain is only a few days away... What then? Do I just leave and think of this as a romantic holiday?" _Anders mused.

"_A healer onboard is an incredible boon!" _Montoya's voice echoed in his mind.

"_What if he asked me to stay? Could I be happy on a ship?" _Anders thought as he jumped into the bed and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. The mage's thoughts were interrupted by a soft groan from outside his room that he instantly recognized as Esteban. Anders jumped out of bed and quickly made his way to the room across the hall.

Esteban was in the throes of a dream and was sweating profusely. Anders reached over to test the lad's forehead. The skin was hotter than before, but not dangerously so. Still, Anders felt the youth deserved a measure of relief. The healer was now convinced that his patient was experiencing a minor reaction to the magical healing process. Thus, more mundane methods of comfort were necessary, lest he make things worse. A cool, damp wash cloth for the lad's forehead immediately came to mind.

Anders walked back out of the room and considered speaking with Captain Montoya. Then he recalled how busy the man was and dismissed the idea. He entered his new room, then smiled as he caught sight of the large jug of water on the table. Now all he needed was a wash cloth of some sort. Given that he and Montoya were now sharing the room, Anders decided that a little poking around in Montoya's dresser was acceptable. He opened the top left drawer of the large dresser only to find a selection of undergarments. The mage smirked, then tried the drawer on the right-hand side.

"Ah!" Anders exclaimed as a drawer full of bandanas and scarves greeted him. Most ranged from dark blue tones to lighter sea greens, with various patterns stitched or dyed into the cloth. However, one item stood out starkly from the rest. Nestled near the back of the drawer was a plain red scarf. Anders paused for a moment, then reached in and took hold of the fabric with the contrary hue. Before the notion had fully coalesced in his mind, he took the scarf and wrapped it around his forearm.

"Sweet Andraste..." Anders whispered as he recognized the token of Fenris's love for Hawke.


	9. Elven Eyes

_Author's Note: For readers who have been following this story for a while, I've added a bonus scene to the beginning of Chapter 1 to flesh it out a bit :)._

**Chapter 9: Elven Eyes**

"Sweet Andraste..." Anders whispered as he stared at the red scarf. He yanked it off his arm and threw it back into the drawer. He slammed it shut and just stared at the dresser for a moment. Then in a burst of movement, he reopened it and frantically tried to place the scarf, as well as everything else, in exactly the same positions as he had found them. He then shut the drawer once again and stood completely still, though his heart raced along with his thoughts.

"_There's no way Fenris would ever have parted with that. Not voluntarily. It... it can't be the same scarf..."_

"_Do you like elves, Anders?"_ Esteban's words echoed in his head, drawing Anders's eyes to the door.

"What in the Blight is going on here?" Anders whispered harshly to himself as he quickly walked out of the captain's room, crossed the hall, and stood over the recovering cabin boy in mere seconds.

"Esteban," Anders gave the lad a slight nudge on the arm. There was no response other than a deep intake of breath and a slight shifting of his limbs. "Esteban," Anders repeated in a louder voice and shook the boy's arms impatiently. The effort garnered the same response as the gentler approach, causing Anders to grunt in frustration. He chewed his lip, then felt Esteban's forehead again. Thankfully heat of his skin seemed to have stabilized at a high, but manageable level. Anders turned to find himself pinned under a piercing blue stare.

"Montoya!" Anders yelped, his limbs going rigid, though his adrenaline cascaded into the beginnings of the fight or flight response.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the captain smiled, but the blue eyes studied the mage carefully. Anders felt like a mouse under the gaze of a hungry cat. "Are you okay? Is Esteban alright?"

"I... ah... yes, I'm fine, but Esteban is running a slight fever," Anders said, forcing himself to sound calm, though he felt anything but.

"Can't you just dispel what ails him?" Montoya asked with a confused look as he stepped closer to the healer. Anders almost stepped away from him, but steeled his nerves and allowed himself to be taken into the captain's arms.

"He's having a reaction to the magical treatment of his injury. Magic at this point would only make the fever worse," Anders explained as the captain pressed closer to him, rocking them both gently along with the movement of the ship.

"You're shaking," the captain said with surprise as he pulled back slightly to look Anders squarely in the eye.

"Qunari make me nervous," Anders only half-lied. The captain smirked.

"Same for me. I thought I'd come down here for a quick break. I know something that will take both of our minds off of the horn-heads," Montoya remarked with a smirk as he pushed the beginnings of an erection against Anders.

"I would be poor company in bed right now," Anders answered with complete honesty. The captain pouted, but he nodded and released the other man. He glanced down at Esteban.

"Is there anything non-magical we can do for the lad?" Montoya asked.

"Beyond waiting this out, not really," Anders answered hesitantly.

"But his fever, perhaps we can help that?" The captain scratched his chin. Then his eyes widened as an idea struck. "I have cold water in my room and more bandanas," he pointed to the dark-blue one that he was currently wearing. "Perhaps a cool compress will help!"

"Oh... well..." Anders tried not to let the fear show in his voice.

"You know, for all your magic, common sense remedies seem to slip your notice," Montoya quipped with a wink. He turned and walked to his room. Anders stood there and prayed that he had managed to cover any signs of his rummaging. The seconds stretched interminably long before Captain Montoya returned with a bright smile, holding several blue and green bandanas in one hand and a large jug of water in the other.

"That's... a good idea..." Anders said with a nod as he took the proffered items.

"Well, since you'll be busy with your patient, I suppose I should get back to my own duties," Montoya said with a yearning tone that clearly indicated a craving for the mage's disagreement on that point. He let the disappointment show when he didn't get the desired result, but still hugged the healer tightly.

"Sorry, we'll have fun later," Anders said with feigned enthusiasm. Montoya's expression brightened instantly.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Well then! Until later!" The captain turned on his heels and left the room with a spring in his step.

Anders let out a deep breath and turned to Esteban, when a new thought popped into his mind. With a nervous frown, he set the bandanas and water down on the table near the bed and peeked out of the room. He then entered the captain's room again and closed the door, making sure to lock it. With his heartbeat steadily rising once more, he walked up to the dresser. He closed his eyes and opened the top right drawer. When he opened them, the red scarf was missing.

* * *

Hawke leaned against the starboard stern railing and stared out across the sea to the northeast.

"Can you still see the warship?" Merrill asked softly. The only sign that Hawke was startled was the slight, nearly imperceptible tensing of his shoulders, but he immediately relaxed in the presence of his Dalish friend. He look at her over his shoulder, then shook his head.

"At least not with the naked eye, but I'd wager that Isabela would claim it was clear as day in her spyglass... regardless of the truth of the matter," Hawke said with a slight sigh as Merrill leaned onto the railing next to him. "To change her mind, I'd offer to let her steer _my _rudder, but I don't think Fenris would approve," he added with a sly look.

"Steer your rudder? You're not a boat." Merrill looked at him, completely confused. Then her eyes widened and she blushed. "Oh! That was _innuendo_! I understand now! Varric would be so proud!" She blurted out excitedly and clapped her hands rapidly in glee. "You meant _sex_, because the _rudder _is your..."

"Yes. You got it, Merrill. Well done," Hawke interrupted her dryly before she could embarrass herself further. Despite the color in her cheeks, Merrill was quite thrilled with herself for understanding a _shemlen _joke. She turned to look out across the water with a wide grin on her face, before she remembered what they had been talking about.

"You don't really blame her for changing course like this, do you?" Merrill turned back to Hawke. "She has a _bit_ of a history with them."

"That's a _bit_ of an understatement," Hawke quipped, but then gave her a slight nod. "I get what you mean. I just hate the fact that we're losing time."

"She protecting us, as well, though," Merrill remarked with a grave voice. "I've never met a Qunari mage before... what's that word for them again?" She paused and glanced over at Hawke.

"_Saarebas_,"Hawke answered, a visible chill passing through his body.

"That means 'evil thing' in their language, right?" Merrill asked, turning so that she leaned on her side and faced Hawke fully.

"Not quite. 'Dangerous thing' actually," he answered, his eyes back on the water. "Though, given the way they treat their mages, it's a rather moot distinction."

"When you told me about the _saarebas_..." Merrill paused for a moment as a look of distaste crossed her face at the foreign word before continuing, "...that you tried to help, I could scarcely believe it. It's absolutely ghastly what he did to himself!"

Hawke nodded as he was lost in the memory momentarily.

_"What if I hadn't killed Arvaarad? Could you have returned if I let these others live?" Hawke asked the Qunari mage._

"_No," Ketojan replied simply._

"_You were doomed from the start?" Hawke pressed on with a frustrated set to his jaw._

"_I was outside my _karataam_. I may be corrupted. I don't know. How I return is my choice."_

"_Of all the ridiculous, spineless, mind-controlled, senseless piece of shit arguments I've ever heard!" Anders growled and shook his head in utter disbelief._

"_What comfort has freedom brought you, mage? You would have more if you submitted to the Qun," Ketojan answered solemnly before walking away from his would-be saviors. Hawke stared in shock as the Qunari mage chanted words of magic that instantly covered himself in flames. The heat was such that everyone took a step back. Varric and Fenris averted their eyes, but Hawke and Anders continued to stare at the grisly proof that the Chantry held no monopoly on the oppression of their kind..._

"Hawke?" Merrill's lilting voice brought him back to the present. Hawke exhaled and shook his head as if to shake free of the disturbing memories.

"Enough about me. How are you doing?" Hawke asked. Merrill blinked at the abrupt change of subject, then shrugged before turning back to face the water.

"As good as can be expected, I suppose. Better than being locked away in the Gallows!" She exclaimed with a shudder.

"We'll get the Eluvian back, when all this is done. That and the rest of your belongings, I promise," Hawke said resolutely.

"Thank you, Hawke," Merrill replied softly with a smile, but then her expression soured slightly. "I feel so stupid."

"Merrill, there wasn't anything you could have done. From the sound of it, your house was already being raided by the time you found out!"

"I wasn't talking about that," Merrill pouted slightly. "There was a pendant that I should have been wearing all along."

"Hmmm?" Hawke turned to her with a questioning look.

"It was a gift from my friend, Tamlen. The one who first found the Eluvian," she explained. "It was a simple leather necklace with a peridot stone."

"That doesn't sound familiar. I don't think I've ever noticed you wearing it."

"That's because I didn't," Merrill said with a sad sigh. "I treasured it so much that I never wore it for fear of losing or damaging it. And now it's gone. I should have kept it close, the way that Tamlen intended." Merrill put her face in her hands for a moment, then looked back up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I just wish it didn't hurt so much. To have the pendant, the Eluvian, everything gone. It feels like a part of myself is gone with them. And to think they were all taken by dirty shemlen-" Merrill stopped abruptly with a horrified look. "S-sorry, I sh-should not have s-said that... I-I meant n-no offense," she stuttered in apology.

"None taken. I'm quite clean!" Hawke winked. The elf sighed in relief, but still wore a look of abject shame.

"I should know better. Shemlen have shown me far greater compassion than my own people," Merrill castigated herself.

"Then give this not-so-dirty shemlen a hug," Hawke demanded cheekily with open arms. Merrill gladly accepted. After the embrace, they turned back to the railing. Hawke still had one arm around her, while she rested the side of her head on his shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over the two friends as they looked out over the ocean.

* * *

"Anders?" Esteban asked weakly as opened his eyes to find the healer leaning over him and applying a cold compress to his forehead.

"Esteban!" Anders almost yelled as he lifted the compress away and squeezed the water into one of two small wooden pails.

"How long have I been asleep?" The boy asked as he began to sit up. Anders helped him position his pillow between his back and the headboard.

"Not exactly sure, but it's been quite a while," Anders answered. He reached forward with the back of his hand and checked his patient's forehead. It felt much better, almost normal.

"I had a fever?" Esteban lifted his own hand to his head.

"Yes, but not a normal one. It was a reaction to the magic I used to heal your leg," Anders explained. Esteban's eyes grew wide and he moved his once injured limb. He then smiled was he looked it over.

"I can barely tell anything happened to it," he whispered in a reverant tone as he began to press here and there along the skin. He then looked up quickly. "What happened to the cat? Is it okay?"

"_She's_ fine," Anders smiled at the boy's unexpected show of sympathy for the very creature who had caused his injury. "Esteban, I need to ask you something," the mage added, his smile fading.

"Okay?" The cabin boy replied tentatively, nervous at the sudden change in Anders's expression.

"Esteban, it is crucial that you tell me the truth. Do you understand?" Anders stated gravely. The boy gulped and nodded. Anders took a deep breath, then continued. "You asked me if I liked elves. Now why did you ask me that?"

"I..." Esteban's voice trailed off and he looked nervously over Anders's shoulder toward the door. The healer turned along with him, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no one there.

"I won't tell anyone what you tell me. You can trust me, Esteban," Anders assured him. He looked as nervous as his patient. The boy gulped again.

"I shouldn't... I can't..."

"You like elves, don't you?" Anders interrupted him gently.

"Yes." Esteban slowly nodded his head, though he looked terrified.

"So do I, Esteban. There are elves on this ship, aren't there?" Anders pressed on. Esteban's breath caught for a moment and his eyes widened even more. The boy's lip began to tremble and then he began to cry quietly.

"We aren't on the Pelican's Beak."

"What?"

"There's no such thing. We're on the Osprey..." Esteban's voice choked, though he kept his voice low, for which Anders was eternally grateful. He pulled the boy into a hug, all while keeping an eye on the door. "We lie to the elves, accept their coin for safe passage, then chain them," Esteban sniffled. "There was this one elf girl... her eyes... they were filled with so much sadness... even before she was taken prisoner..." Esteban cried even harder.

"It's going to be okay," Anders tried to say softly, but the anger was clear in his voice. The boy shuddered and shook his head."

"The sailors... sometimes they... do things..." Esteban's voice trailed off. Anders abruptly let go of the boy and stepped away. He turned from him just as his eyes flared blue and rivulets of energy sparked across his body.

"_We must kill them... kill them all..." _Justice's voice boomed in Anders's head.

"Not... now..." Anders hissed as he clutched at his temples, his voice slightly deeper than normal.

"Anders? What's wrong?" Esteban stared at the mage's back with tear-streaked eyes.

"_I promise... you will have your due... but we must plan,"_ Anders retorted inwardly at the spirit that threatened to take full control of his body in a seething rage.

"_The captain is responsible! His blood shall be mine!"_ Justice demanded.

"_No! Not the captain! We need him alive... to keep the ship on course to Rivain,"_ Anders argued silently, clutching at his head, the rivulets of blue energy pulsing slowly.

"_He lied to you, as have all the others you have opened your heart to! I am the only one you can trust! I am your strength."_ Justice's voice reverberated in the healer's head.

"_You will have blood, I promise. But _not _his! Please, Justice... give me this and I will deliver the rest of his men to your righteous judgement!"_

"_So be it," _Justice's voice faded into the recesses of the mage's mind. The streams of energy disappeared and the burning blue eyes returned to gentle brown.

"Anders?" Esteban asked in a surprisingly clear voice.

"I'm fine, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Anders turned around. The boy's look of fear had turned into one of awe.

"You're possessed, aren't you? By a spirit from the Fade," Esteban whispered.

"Yes," Anders replied, seeing no point in lying at this point.

"Then you have the power to help me free the elf girl, to free them all," Esteban stated flatly with burning determination in his eyes. Anders blinked in surprise. He had expected the boy to begin crying anew and scream "abomination!"

"You aren't frightened by what I am?"

"I am Rivaini. Our seers sometimes allow themselves to be joined as you have," Esteban replied.

"I've heard of such things, but it still surprises me nonetheless. It is always a comfort to know that not all of Thedas bends to the Chantry's will."

"The Chantry says all spirits are evil. But we Rivaini know better. We know some are good," Esteban stated confidently. "You healed me. That proves to me which kind inhabits you."

"I am still one man, Esteban. And there are over a dozen armed men on this ship. I can't fight them all at once," Anders remarked with a shake of his head.

"But if we free the slaves, they can fight alongside you!" Esteban's eyes shined from the light streaming in from the room's porthole.

"I'm not sure if the majority of them will be much help, but there's one that most certainly will be."

"Your lover, the white-haired one?" Esteban asked with both brows.

"He's not my... nevermind," Anders didn't feel like trying to convince the younger man that what he had overheard was not a lover's quarrel. Doing so made him think about things that had happened when he had not been in full control of his faculties.

"I can get into the slave hold," Esteban announced.

"What? How?" Anders raised a brow. The cabin boy was full of surprises.

"Who do you think is responsible for feeding them... and changing the chamber pots?"

"So you have a key?" Anders asked with an expectant look. _"Could it really be this easy?"_ He thought to himself.

"I have the key to the room... but I don't have the keys to the slaves' chains," Esteban elaborated. Anders's expression fell. "Only the captain carries those. Along with the keys to the ship's armory. And he holds on to those at all times," the boy added.

"I can get them for you," Anders said suddenly as an idea came to mind.

* * *

"Another round of ale, ser?" Norah asked, momentarily drawing Carver's attention away from his dour thoughts. He held a leather gemstone pendant in one hand while he ran the fingers of the other along the rim of his clay mug.

"Yes, please," the younger Hawke replied with a weak nod before hanging his head again in front of his nearly empty cup. Norah stood above him silently, but made no move to oblige him. Finally, Carver furrowed his brows as he looked up.

"We only keep a bar tab for our best customers, like your pirate friend." The barmaid rubbed her thumb across her fingers and gave him a pointed look.

"Isabela is _not_ my friend," Carver groused as he fished into his coin pouch, then slid a silver on the table toward Norah. The barmaid picked it up quickly, then refilled his cup. When Norah moved out of his way to attend to other patrons, Carver noticed Aveline sitting at the bar. She happened to notice him at that moment, as well, and gave him a surprised look before raising her glass his way. He returned the gesture, then, in a gregariousness moment brought on by alcohol, waved the Captain of the Guard over. She smiled and was just about about to get up from her bar stool, but her expression fell as someone else caught her eye.

"Carver!" A boisterous male voice yelled, drawing the younger Hawke's eyes from Aveline to a tall templar who was flanked by two slightly shorter members of the Order. He quickly pocketed the leather pendant.

"Guthrey. Stefan. Alston." Carver punctuated each name with decreasing enthusiasm. Either the other men didn't notice or didn't care. Alston and Stefan sat across from Carver, while Guthrey settled into the seat to his right. The tall templar snapped his fingers imperiously at Norah, who ignored him until he flashed a small stack of silver in her direction.

"A round of ale for the four of us!" Guthrey's voice boomed. Carver's right eye twitched in annoyance.

"Actually, I was just heading out," Carver said as he began to stand. Guthrey's large, heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. Carver glanced at the hand and then back at the other templar.

"I insist," Guthrey said with a wide grin, but there was an odd look in his eye. Carver's brows furrowed, but he sat down again.

"What do you want?" Carver asked, his eyes full of suspicion. Alston and Stefan had blank looks on their faces, but then again, they often did. Guthrey, however, was all smiles.

"So... are all Fereldans chummy with non-humans?" Guthrey asked with a smirk.

"What?" Carver frowned at the question. Guthrey turned from him to accept three clay mugs full of ale from Norah, while she refilled Carver's from her flagon.

"Simple question, Carver," the taller templar added.

"I'm friends with one dwarf. Big deal. He's hardly a typical one at that," Carver muttered.

"You've got that right! I've never seen a beardless one before! Is he a eunuch or something?" Guthrey said with a slight sneer.

"I don't know. I don't make it a habit of inspecting the bollocks of my friends and associates," Carver replied with a huff. Guthrey's eyes narrowed, but then his expression lightened and he let out a bellowing laugh. His sycophants across the table joined in.

"It's a good thing everyone knows how surly you always are. Otherwise, I'd get the impression you didn't like me!" Guthrey chuckled.

"Perish the thought," Carver remarked dryly.

"Cheers!" Guthrey held out his mug. Alston and Stefan instantly clinked theirs to his. Carver did a moment later, albeit reluctantly. "So. Back to the topic at hand, I knew you were friends with dwarves-"

"Dwarf. Singular," Carver cut in. Guthrey nodded slightly, and continued.

"But I didn't know you had a thing for elves..." the taller templar let his voice trail as he gave Carver a pointed look. The younger Hawke's eyes flashed and he visibly gulped.

"Word has it that you were seen giving a rose to an elf girl at the docks the other day," Stefan piped in with a smug look on his face before he took a drink from his cup. He kept his eyes on Carver the whole time.

"Are we certain it was a girl? It's so hard to tell with elves!" Alston joked, causing his friends to laugh.

"True that! Perhaps Hawke the Younger has the same tastes as Hawke the Elder," Guthrey added.

"My personal life is none of your business. The same goes for my brother's," Carver growled.

"Calm down, Carver. I have nothing against lovers of men. The practice is just so..." Guthrey waved his hands as he tried to think of what to say.

"Unusual?" Stefan offered.

"Orlesian," Alston added.

"Orlesian! Exactly!" Guthrey snapped his fingers and pointed to his friend. "But all that aside, I find it odd that the morning after we raided an elf's home, you're seen giving a rose to one departing the city."

"I..."

"Carver! How are you doing this fine evening!" Aveline called out as she sat down to his right.

"Uh... Aveline, hello," Carver sputtered slightly. The other templars at the table looked at her with clear distaste. The tension between the City Guard and the Templar Order had only increased over the years.

"Captain," all three said with a reluctant nod.

"So how are things going with that elven girl?" Aveline asked with a big grin. Her eyes widened with mischief as she gave him a nudge. "She won't be in Rivain that long, right?"

"No, not at all, just visiting some relatives that settled there after that unfortunate business with the Qunari," Carver improvised, finally catching on to Aveline's ploy.

"Still... and please don't take any offense at this... but if you're going to _do_ an elf, why not go all out and try one of the Dalish? Even though they spend all their time outdoors, I daresay they're cleaner than their city cousins."

"How dare you!" Carver nearly shouted in feigned anger. "I'll have you know that Esme is far cleaner than... well... than you!"

"Oh, pipe down _Little Hawke_," Aveline laughed, though Carver's angry expression looked quite real in response to the hated nickname. "I jest, I jest."

"Well, they did say they didn't see any tattoos on her face," Alston murmured to Guthrey.

"What? Now you tell me?" The tall templar snapped.

"Maybe they were too far away? She still could've been Dalish!" Alston protested.

"If you're close enough to see the ears, you're close enough to see the tattoos on their faces," Stefan grumbled.

"Well fine then, my mistake," Alston muttered sheepishly.

"What's this all about?" Aveline asked innocently.

"Nothing," Guthrey quickled replied. He gave a warning look to his compatriots, who remained silent. "A simple misunderstanding. Sorry Carver, we'll be on our way," Guthrey said as he stood up. He nodded to Aveline, then he and his two cronies left the table.

"That wasn't very smart, going to the docks like that," Aveline whispered once the three templars were out of earshot.

"I know... but I just couldn't let Merrill leave without saying goodbye," Carver protested with a hurt look on his face. "I had to let her know how I felt! Who knows what kind of danger she'll get up to at my brother's side?"

"I can't argue with that," Aveline sighed with a nod.

"Thank you for stepping in, by the way. I thought I had been found out."

"You're welcome, though you should really be thanking Orana her make-up," Aveline said sincerely. Carver smiled for once and chuckled. "Speaking of being found out, though, you might want to think about keeping Merrill's mementos out of sight when in public."

"What? How did you know it was hers?" Carver gave her a surprised look.

"It didn't take a sage to figure out. You were mooning over that pendant," Aveline answered with an amused shake of her head.

"I found it during the raid and pocketed it. I wanted to save more of her things, but it was too dangerous," Carver explained with a frustrated huff.

"I must admit Carver. I was a bit surprised that you had a thing for Merrill."

"To be honest, so was I," Carver admitted.

"Then what was it about her? What made you set aside your feelings toward mages, your duty to-"

"Her eyes," Carver cut in with a wistful voice as he fixed Aveline with a look she had never seen on his face before. It was an expression of pure wonder. "When I first saw her eyes..."

* * *

"Enrique, you have your orders," Captain Montoya said as he stopped in front of his door.

"But captain! If we're going to maintain this speed through the night-"

"Haven't you been listening to anything I said? We won't have to go at full speed once darkness falls. If we sail solely by the light of the crescent moon, we'll leave nothing for the Qunari to mark our trajectory. They'll assume that we'll continue toward Llomerynn to the northwest, rather than turning to the northeast."

"I see," the first mate nodded reluctantly.

"Make sure everyone knows to keep the portholes of their rooms closed tonight if they need light. Then get some rest, Enrique. We've had a full day. The next shift can handle things from here."

"Aye, ser." Enrique nodded, then took his leave. Montoya watched him go, then grinned and opened his door.

"Hello Anders Justanders," Montoya said before the door to his room was fully open. Sure enough, the blond mage was in the room, on the captain's bed to be exact. He was lounging, half-seated, propped up by several pillows. He wore a light blue tunic that was only half-buttoned, while the lace-front breeches weren't fully tied. The captain's eyes feasted on the display as he shut the door and locked it behind him.

"I hope you don't mind that I borrowed a few items of clothing," Anders barely turned toward the captain, but his eyes glanced over slyly.

"I see that you're in a better mood!"

"I had a promise to keep," Anders winked.

"Ah, yes," Montoya growled as he quickly climbed into bed. He tried to cover the mage's body with his own, but Anders slid out of the way. Montoya looked at him in slight confusion.

"Strip. Now," Anders demanded with a feral expression in his eyes, his gaze dropping from the Rivaini's blue eyes down to his crotch, then back again.

"Whatever has gotten into you, my Ferelden treasure, I _like_ it!" Montoya purred as he began to undo the buttons of his breeches. The captain was already fully erect by the time he had shucked his bottoms off. There was a clink of metal as the breeches hit the wood floor. Anders glanced over at the sound, but Montoya quickly brought his attention back.

"I want those pretty Ferelden lips around my cock."

"I've got an even better idea," Anders whispered as he leaned foward and placed one hand around the thick erection. He then mumbled a few words under his breath. Sparks of electricity arced through his fingers and into Montoya.

"Anders!" Montoya's entire body jerked and his eyes fluttered in a mixture of shock and ecstasy. His eyes then zeroed back in on the mage with an expression that looked every bit like rage. His hands slapped down on Anders shoulders and he squeezed hard. Anders gulped.

"Montoya, was that-"

"Do it again!" The captain ordered.

* * *

Anders blinked his eyes in the dim light of the lamp. He didn't remember falling asleep, but the captain had proven to have far more stamina than he had anticipated. With a nervous grimace, Anders slowly slid from under Montoya's heavy arm. The other man was snoring lightly and didn't stir. The blond looked at the open porthole, and vaguely recalled something being said about it, but the thought faded away as his mind turned to more pressing matters.

The mage swooned a bit as he set his feet on the floor. The captain had turned out to be the most enthusiastic fan of electrical-play in bed that Anders had ever met. He had started to worry that he might permanently injure the man. It took three orgasms for the captain to finally go to sleep, a record for Anders's male lovers. Performing the trick over and over again had worn the mage out, but he was determined to see his plan through. He stood from the bed after he collected himself and quickly donned his own clothes, rather than those he had borrowed temporarily from the captain.

Anders turned toward Montoya and ran his eyes from the the man's strong, muscular legs, to the firm buttocks, and finally the sculpted back. The captain rested with one cheek on his pillow, facing away from Anders. The mage gave the man a look of sincere regret, then began to weave patterns in the air. Subtle swirls of light flowed from his fingers, then a translucent sphere hurtled toward the bed. It burst into a rippling shimmer of air. It was a sleep spell, which normally would only incapacitate a victim for a few seconds. However, when cast upon someone _already _sleeping, it pulled the person into an even deeper slumber that was nigh impossible to wake from for several hours.

Satisfied with the results, Anders grabbed the trousers that Montoya had aside. He reached into the first pocked and felt a bundle of cloth. He pulled it out, revealing Fenris's red scarf. Anders stared at it for a moment, then stuffed the cloth into the left pocket of his breeches. He reached back into Montoya's trousers and finally pulled out a key ring that was about the same diameter as his wrist. It held four keys, each about the length of this forefinger. With a deep breath, he pocketed the keys, then grabbed his empty haversack from next to the captain's desk. He walked to the dresser and opened the drawer with the bandana collection, then threw several into the sack, and headed for the door.

Anders paused and listened, then carefully exited the captain's quarters. He quickly looked down both ends of the hall, then entered the room where Esteban was waiting. He lit the lamp with a wave of his fingers. The boy was fast asleep, slack-jawed and drooling on his pillow slightly.

"Esteban," Anders said as he gave him a gentle shake on the shoulder. The boy instantly woke up. His eyes were wild for a moment before they focused on Anders.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep!"

"It's fine, so did I. I'm not sure what time it is, but the sun has already set," Anders remarked. The boy looked at the porthole, but it was closed. He looked back at Anders.

"Did you get the keys?"

"Yes," Anders replied. Esteban looked away for a moment before getting up.

"Well done," the cabin boy remarked. Even by the flickering light of the lamp, Anders could see that the lad was blushing fiercely. The mage had been so focused on wearing the captain out, he had totally forgotten about casting a silencing charm. To say the captain was loud in bed was an understatement. Anders began to blush, as well and hoped Esteban had not heard too much before falling asleep. He held out the keys and haversack and did his best to ignore the awkward look Esteban was giving him.

"I added a few bandanas. Tie these around the sabres so that they don't clink together. Plus the knots will distort the shape of them in the sack," Anders explained. Esteban nodded.

"I'll try to fit a half dozen."

"That will have to be enough." Anders chewed his lip. "Make sure to explain to the elves to wait for my signal before coming up to the deck. Before that happens though, come back to me so that I know for sure they have been freed."

"You're not coming with me?" Esteban's eyes went wide.

"It would look suspicious. Plus, I need to stay in the captain's room in case the first mate or another sailor comes by to speak with him," Anders said with a shake of his head. He traced a sigil of light in the air, with Esteban's eyes following every move. The mage then placed a hand on his own throat. "Enrique! I need my sleep, come back later!" Captain Montoya's voice issued out of Anders's mouth. The cabin boy gasped in amazement, then nodded.

"Understood," Esteban began to walk away, but Anders gripped him by the shoulder.

"Fenris, my white-haired... friend..." Anders grimaced at the word, as well as the foreign timbre of his voice. "He might hold some ill will toward me. It's quite possible that he thinks I had a hand in his enslavement. Please inform him otherwise."

"I will," Esteban said as he hurried away.

* * *

"Would you like another story?" Lanreth asked softly in the darkness.

"I'd like that," Fenris asked. The other elf had helped pass the time for all of them, distracting them with tales of elven lore and legends that had the warrior wondering how the city elf had come to know so much of Dalish ways. Even Tieral had kept his sharp tongue at bay for most of the stories. One of the other elves in the slave hold had overcome her earlier reticence and made her wishes known, as well.

"Yes, do please go on, Lanreth," a soft female voice called out.

"Certainly. For you, Bronwyn, anything," the storyteller answered.

"Oh, for her, anything? And what of me?" Fenris asked with laughter in his deep voice. Lanreth chuckled.

"Anything for you, Fenris? That goes without saying," Lanreth chuckled. "Learn my stories well so that you can regale all of us later with your riveting voice."

"Ugh, the flirting is making me sick," Tieral muttered.

"Shut up!" Bronwyn snapped. "Their flirtations are far more welcome than your incessant whining!"

Fenris was about protest the assertion that he was flirting with Lanreth, when he heard the sound of a key being turned in a lock. There was a soft creak as the hatch to his right opened and lamp light poured down the steps that led into the slave hold. His heart began to beat faster and it seemed as if all the elves around him held their breath in fear.

"Relax everyone, it's just the cabin boy," Lanreth called out.

Fenris's eyes widened in surprise as the boy set his lamp and haversack down and approached the nearest elf, Tieral, with keys in his hand. Fenris's breath caught in his throat as he watched the youth first unlock the other elf's ankle manacles, then began to work on the wrists. "I've come to set you free," he said as he unlocked the last of Tieral's bonds. "There's-" the boy's voice was halted by a sharp cough of pain as Tieral slammed a fist into his stomach.

"What are you doing?" Fenris yelled. Tieral ignored him as he began to rain blows down on the cabin boy.

"Tieral! Stop! He was helping us!" Lanreth raged.

"I've had enough help from a _shem_!" Tieral growled, then spat on the boy who was now splayed on the floor, silent and still. With a snarl, he took hold of the keys, then approached his brother. Lanreth's look of anger was unmistakable in the lamp light. Tieral pursed his lips and hesitated for a moment, then began to unlock his older brother. Once freed, Lanreth rushed over to the cabin boy. The elf knelt next to the prone boy and frowned at the bleeding mouth and nose. Lanreth placed his hands on the boy's torso.

"He lives, though he's unconscious," Lanreth informed the others.

"Lucky for you, Tieral," Fenris growled. Lanreth stood back up and approached his sibling. Tieral flinched as his older brother extended his hand toward him, clearly expecting to be struck instead.

"Give me the keys," Lanreth ordered in a deathly calm voice. Tieral instantly obeyed. Lanreth took the keys in hand and made his way over to Fenris. He took Fenris's hand in his, then tried the same key that Tieral had used on him, but it didn't work. Fenris's heart skipped a beat. Lanreth tried another. Still nothing. Lanreth's hands were now shaking as he tried the third key. It didn't fit. His hands slipped on the fourth and last key, but when he brought it back up to the lock, it slipped in. The manacle glowed, then split and fell from Fenris's wrist. Both elves exhaled loudly in relief, then Lanreth quickly worked on the other shackles.

Fenris had his hands on the haversack in an instant, his stomach growling from a renewed surge of hunger at the thought of bread, no matter how stale it was sure to be. He almost screamed in disappointment when he dumped the contents of the haversack out, but at the muffled sound of metal hitting wood, he looked more closely.

"Sabres..." he whispered in surprise, pulling at one of the bandanas wrapped around the closest, gently curved blade.

* * *

Anders paced back and forth in the captain's room. No one had come yet, including Esteban.

"Where is he?" The mage whispered to himself. "Something went wrong," Anders added after another minute of pacing, then blinked in surprise as he noticed his voice changing back to normal. He was about to cast the voice mimicry spell again, but then shook his head. He needed to go searching for the boy and if he were stopped on the deck, he would need his own voice. Anders placed his hand on the doorknob when the sound of thunder boomed in his ears, soon followed by a great crash. The boat shook and Anders stumbled backward. Montoya continued to snore on the bed, completely unaware. The sound of sailors shouting came from above, then another boom and crash. Suddenly a clear battle-cry rose above the din.

"Fenris!" Anders's heart leaped in his chest. The sound of thunder sounded again, and the boat shook once more. "What are you doing, elf?" Anders said aloud as he threw the door open and raced up to the deck. The mage ran through a mental list of magical explosives that Fenris could have possibly come across in the ship's cargo hold. "Don't burn the ship down, imbecile!" He muttered as he took the stairs up, two at a time.

The light of dawn had just crept over the horizon. Anders could see Fenris leading a group of elves against the sailors of the Osprey. Several sailors had fallen, while only one elf had. Thunder boomed once more, drawing the mage's gaze starboard.

"No!" Anders gasped. There, in the dawn light, he could see the Qunari warship only a stone's throw away, sailing parallel with the Rivaini Galleon. "_Gaatlok_," Anders thought to himself, remembering the mysterious mixture of minerals that powered the strange Qunari devices known as cannons. His mind raced. How could the Qunari have followed them through the night?

"The porthole," Anders whispered, suddenly remembering Captain Montoya's order that all portholes be closed if the rooms were lit at night. They had been so preoccupied, that neither man had remembered. Unfortunately, the captain's quarters were located in the stern of the ship...

* * *

Fenris's brands flared to life as he rushed onto the deck, taking three sailors by complete surprise. He beheaded one, stabbed another in the heart, then kicked the third so hard that the sailor fell to the ground where he was promptly disemboweled by Tieral. The other armed elves, including Lanreth, clashed sabres with reinforcements from the sailor's quarters as shouts of alarm rang out all around them. Fenris had squared off against three more sailors, when the sudden sound of thunder in a clear sky brought all combat to an immediate halt. The railing closest to Fenris exploded in a shower of splinters and gore as two sailors were thrown across the deck in a bloody heap.

"In the Maker's name..." Lanreth whispered as he turned starboard. Fenris followed his gaze. There, in the dark, he could see a great shadow close by. There was a flare of light and more thunder. Another section of the Osprey's landing was torn apart as two other sailors perished instantly. The humans and elves were both at a loss of what to do, when Fenris let loose a blood-curdling battle-cry and renewed the fight. The elves surged forward, full of vengeful wrath.

Fenris took a moment to wipe blood from his face, when he saw Anders step out onto the deck at the other side of the ship. A surge of rage flowed through his body and he began to approach the mage, who was staring dumbfounded at the Qunari ship in the growing light of dawn. Two sailors tried to block his path, but both lost a leg as he swept by. They screamed and fell writhing to the deck, but Fenris didn't even pause to finish them off.

"Anders!" The elf bellowed. The mage turned and looked at him with wide eyes. Fenris then looked down, to see a hand's length of his red scarf hanging out of Anders's left pocket. The mage followed his eyes, then looked back at Fenris, who was almost upon him. Seeing the anger in the elf's eyes, he put his palms up placatingly.

"I swear, I didn't know! I-" Anders's protest was cut short by the savage backhand that Fenris delivered with the back of his left hand. The mage was knocked off his feet from the force of the blow. He groaned and struggled onto his hands and knees.

"You lying whore!" Fenris yelled as kicked Anders in the stomach, knocking him to the deck once more.

"Justice, you can show up any time now, damn it..." Anders muttered in desperation as he coughed up blood.

"If your demon is truly a force of justice, then he knows that you had this coming!" Fenris bellowed. Anders looked up at that moment, an expression of despair dawning on his bloodied face as the elf's words struck a nerve. He closed his eyes as Fenris approached with sword raised. A shadow raced in front of him, blocking the elf's path.

"_Kchsssss!_" The black cat hissed with an arched back and teeth bared.

"Mab?" Anders opened his eyes in surprise.

"Get out of my way!" Fenris snarled, but the cat did not budge. Another crash of thunder sounded from the Qunari ship. A tremendous cracking issued from above him and Fenris looked up just in time to see the main mast break in two and the crossbeam swing right for him on fraying ropes. He tried to dodge, but the massive length of wood slammed into his right arm. There was a sickening crack as the limb was broken. The elf screamed in pain as his body was thrown to the deck like a rag doll. He spun over several times and then he felt himself falling.

Fenris reached out desperately with his left hand and managed to just catch the edge of the splintered deck. His feet scrambled on instinct as he tried to gain purchase, but his efforts were in vain. His right arm was limp at his side, though in his fear, he could no longer feel the pain. He looked down into the dark, churning waters under him. Exhausted and without the use of an arm, Fenris knew he had no chance if he lost his grip. He looked back up to find Anders staring at him only an arm's length away. The elf knew he had no right to ask the mage for mercy, and indeed, his voice failed him. As the sun broke across the horizon, Anders studied the brilliant green of Fenris's eyes, wide with terror and clear in their silent plea. The mage had an almost saddened look about him, but then his expression hardened. Anders pulled away from the edge and left Fenris to his fate.


	10. Salvation

_Author's Note: Perhaps it's a temporary bug, but whenever I save, exclamation points disappear if they follow a question mark, even when editing the html :(. _

**Chapter 10: Salvation**

Anders scampered away a few feet from the jagged edge of the ship. He remained on all fours, his breathing ragged from the pain in his ribs and his jaw. Still, he counted himself lucky. He had only been spared Fenris's misfortune by virtue of being on his knees in front of the elf when the crossbeam struck.

"_Well done, Anders. Let him reap what he has sown..._" Justice murmured from within.

"_Shut up! You were going to let him kill us_!" Anders shot back silently.

"_And what should I have done in full view of the Qunari? You wished me to reveal myself and thus deliver us to our deaths by their hand? If so, it appears I am gifted with vastly greater foresight than my host_." Justice intoned haughtily. "_The elf may well have struck us down, but I stayed my hand in the hope that he would see reason_."

"_He didn't! We could have died!_" Ander protested.

"_And yet we are alive,_" Justice's voice seemed as close to a chuckle as Anders had ever heard it.

"I hate you sometimes," Ander growled out loud.

"_The feeling is quite mutual_," Justice replied instantly.

"Sailors of the Osprey! Retreat to the crews' quarters!" A desperate voice yelled over the fighting and cannon fire. Anders turned to see Enrique bleeding from several wounds but still standing tall. The sailors on the deck instantly followed his orders and began a tactical retreat from the elves. All but one of them seemed more than happy to let them go, given Fenris's absence. An auburn-haired elf with a look that rivaled Fenris at his most enraged almost gave chase, but a red-haired elf who stood slightly taller grabbed him by the arm.

"Tieral, let them go! We have to find Fenris!" The taller elf demanded.

"Below deck now, men! We'll bar the door!" Enrique shouted again over the sound of yet another cannon round. Anders slowly got to his feet and stared at the first mate, unsure of what to do. He knew Enrique hated him, but somehow Esteban had not convinced Fenris of the mage's hand in the emancipation of the Osprey's elves. If Fenris thought Anders was complicit in his enslavement, the other elves were sure to share his assessment and show just as little mercy.

Enrique seemed to sense the scrutiny. The sailor's eyes shifted over to the destroyed railing and locked onto Anders. The two men stared at each other in silence for a moment before the first mate beckoned toward him with an impatient wave of his arm. "Don't just sit there dumbfounded, Anders! Get over here!"

"Mab?" Anders looked down, half-expecting her to be gone, but the black cat was calmly looking up at him with her large, topaz eyes.

"Mrrrow!"

"Let's go!"

* * *

"Help me! Lanreth! Anyone!" Fenris screamed just as another cannon thundered, completely drowning out the sound of his voice. His little finger slipped off, soon followed by the next.

"_Hawke, I failed you_," Fenris thought to himself, his voice failing him again from the combination of pain and despair. For everything to come to this moment, where his own stupidity and puerile need for revenge literally placed him on the brink... it was worse than the moment in the slave hold. At least then he had entertained a shred of hope that he would be found. This time no tears fell from his eyes. It was was far too late. Fenris closed his eyes as his final fingers slipped.

"I love you, Hawke," the elf whispered as he fell... merely an inch. Fenris's eyes shot open and he instinctively glanced at his wrist, which was now held in an iron grip. The green eyes then glanced up to find brown eyes staring back at him. He was too stunned to speak. When he felt the hand on his arm, he had expected to see Lanreth above him, not the mage he had almost killed in a blind rage. He closed his eyes hard in utter disbelief, but when he opened them again, Anders was still there. The mage's blond hair had come loose and the wild locks now framing the man's face caught the rays of the rising sun. The flaxen strands almost seemed to glow in the light, and gave him the appearance of a spirit of sorts, but entirely unlike the harsh, cold glow when the man was possessed by Justice. With a sudden euphoria brought on by cheating death, Fenris found the entire effect hauntingly beautiful. The elf went even further and momentarily wondered why the man never let his hair fall free.

"Shut up!" Anders growled, causing Fenris to fear that he had actually said those unbidden, _unwanted _thoughts aloud. However, the mage continued to mutter, even through the grunts of exertion from pulling the elf up. "I'm allowed to change my mind, Justice!"

"My right arm is broken! I can't pull with my other hand!" Fenris shouted, bringing Anders out of his personal debate.

"Thank the Maker you elves are light!" Anders muttered back. He had his other arm on the portion of the railing that had not been blasted apart by the Qunari cannons. With a grimace, he shifted his body and braced one of his legs against it, as well. "Pray this thing holds!" Anders yelled as he pulled back with a cry of exertion. The angle necessitated placing his arm, and thus Fenris's, between his legs. As Anders leaned back onto the deck, the half-naked elf was lifted up and over the edge, to rest akwardly on top of him. The mage's black cat was close by and had a look of pure feline irritation as she looked over at Fenris.

"Anders, thank-" Fenris's statement of gratitude was cut short when he rolled away from Anders and fell onto his broken arm. He screamed as the pain he had forgotten flared back to life in the worst way imaginable. His eyes watered from the intensity of it.

"Fenris!" Lanreth rushed over with Tieral, who was eyeing Anders with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Fenris didn't miss the look, and shook his head sharply.

"Tieral, don't you dare! This man... he saved my life!" Fenris gasped through his pain. Mab had positioned herself in front of Anders again, and there was a low throaty growl in her throat.

"Brother, calm your fury and make yourself useful!" Lanreth grabbed hold of Tieral and forced him to look face-to-face with his elder sibling. "Tear a piece of the sail and wave it aloft in surrender to the Qunari, before they blow us completely out of the water!" Lanreth yelled and shoved his brother away. Tieral narrowed his eyes in anger, but nodded and rushed away. Lanreth knelt down next to Fenris just as Anders did the same.

"The name is Lanreth," the elf introduced himself to Anders, though he didn't extend a hand to the human.

"Anders, a fri... an acquaintance of Fenris's," the mage replied.

"So I've heard," Lanreth said with a pointed look. "Your cat seems quite protective of you," he added as he looked down at the black feline.

"Yes, quite. Her name is Mab," Anders replied. He shifted his eyes back to Fenris.

"I can help," Anders said as he reached over his rival's prone body for the injured arm. The elf slapped his hands away with almost bruising force.

"No!" Fenris growled. Lanreth stared at them both, unsure of what to do.

"Andraste's ass, Fenris! Now is not the time for your bullshit!" Anders shouted as he reached again. This time Fenris's left hand locked onto the healer's right. Mab began to growl once more. Anders glared at the injured elf, but his expression turned into one of confusion when he saw fear, rather than anger in the green eyes.

"Anders, for your sake, not mine... the Qunari will see," Fenris urged with a pained breath.

"What does he mean?" Lanreth asked with furrowed brows.

"Nothing," Anders and Fenris said simultaneously as a look of understanding passed between them. "Mab, calm down," Anders ordered. The cat blinked at their joined hands, but ceased her growling.

"Fellow elves! Drop your weapons!" Fenris shouted at the top of his lungs. There was an immediate clatter of metal on wood as the former slaves obeyed instantly.

"We surrender! We surrender!" Tieral yelled immediately after.

"Help me up!" Fenris ordered, still holding Anders's hand. The blond mage nodded and pulled the elf into a seated position along with Lanreth, who supported Fenris's back gently.

The three of them looked at the Qunari ship and could now clearly the crew of the warship lining the railings. Anders and Lanreth both gasped in surprise.

"There are several elves with the Qunari!" The mage exclaimed.

"And a human!" Lanreth added. Over two dozen warriors in red Qunari warpaint stood shoulder-to-shoulder, with noticeable dips in the line from the shorter elves and human.

"They wear the _setosh_ markings on their skin. They are Qunari, as well," Fenris intoned evenly.

"I've heard of elves and humans living amongst the Qunari, but to see them is another matter entirely," Lanreth whispered.

"Be assured that they are just as fervent in their beliefs," Fenris remarked cautiously.

All three men shook involuntarily as there was a quick series of five explosions from the deck of the warship. Instead of cannon fire, however, there was a whistling sound as grappling hooks flew through the air trailing lines of thick rope. One fell with a thud just to their left. The line immediately began to retract and the three-pronged steel hook skidded across the deck until it locked onto the railing.

The sound of grinding metal brought their eyes back across the water. Ten of the largest, most muscular of the Qunari warriors had positioned themselves behind five massive winches which held the ropes. In teams of two, the veritable giants began turning the gears and bringing the two ships closer together.

"Let me do the talking," Fenris said sharply as he looked at both Anders and Lanreth. The mage and the other elf quickly nodded their assent. Both of their eyes were wide with fear as the Qunari warship loomed inexorably closer. "And Lanreth..."

"Yes?" the red-haired elf answered, though his eyes were now locked onto the row of Qunari warriors.

"Keep Tieral under control. What happens in the next few minutes will determine if we live or die," Fenris warned, his voice raspy and clearly weighed down by the pain of his broken arm.

"Understood!" Lanreth replied and got up to find his brother only a few feet away, still waving the white flag of surrender with a fervor that nearly matched that of his sabre swings in battle. He rushed over to him, while Fenris leaned over to whisper to Anders.

"I think only my arm is broken, but legs were also injured when I fell. Help me stand, please," Fenris asked with a tremble in his voice. Anders nodded and stood up. He then quickly went behind the elf and hooked one hand under Fenris's left arm. Anders avoided the injured arm, but instead braced his other hand against the elf's hip as he pulled up. Fenris's legs were shaking slightly, prompting Anders to remain close with a hand at the ready. Mab was on his other side, looking supremely agitated, though quiet.

The ships were now only a few meters apart. With a loud creaking sound followed by a crash, the gangplank of the warship slammed onto the deck of the Osprey. The red-painted warriors streamed onto the adjacent vessel with gleaming steel swords at the ready. One in particular stood out from the rest. While the other Qunari, including the elves and human, were bare-chested and wore simple breeches, this one wore a harness over his chest, along with red and black metal shoulder plates and bracers. He was not the largest of the warriors, but he held the largest sword by far. It was a massive, serrated blade of black steel, with a ruby pommel. It was as long as an elf was tall and menaced with jagged spikes along the upper edges of the crosshatches.

"You are in the presence of Sten of the Enaresaad!" The horned sword-bearer bellowed in a voice even deeper than Fenris's as his men spread out along the deck to surround the unarmed elves in a ring of red. With an almost imperceptible nod from their commander, the entire regiment pointed their swords in unison at the prisoners. Tieral gave his makeshift white flag a final wave, before Lanreth gripped his arm and forced him to cease. "Who is your leader?" Sten shouted, though his eyes were already trailing along the lines of Fenris's lyrium tattoos.

"I am," Fenris replied in a strong, but labored voice. Sten sneered at him and approached. Anders and Fenris both tensed, but the elf put a calming hand on the mage's shoulder. "My name is Fenris-"

"I care not for your _name_. You are _Bas_," Sten spat the Qunari word for "thing" as he looked Fenris up and down with an expression of pure disdain.

"_Anaan esaam Qun!_" Fenris said evenly.

"What is this? _Bas_ who speaks of victory in the Qun?" Sten's expression shifted slightly to one of smug curiosity. "And how does _Bas_ know such elevated speech?" The Qunari stepped closer. Anders stepped back slightly for a moment, but when Fenris stood his ground, the mage reconsidered and returned to his side.

"I am a former slave who was forced to fight against your kind on the island of Seheron," Fenris replied. Anders stared at him, terrified by the honest answer.

"_Bas_ speaks words of truth. Many of us know the tales of the silver-blue foe who fought against us at the Battle of Seheron. One with tattoos such as yours," Sten's voice held a deadly edge as he reached out with a clawed finger and began to trace the brands. Fenris hissed at the touch, but he kept his eyes on the Qunari and didn't shrink away, though his entire body shook at the invasive contact.

"He was a _slave_! It wasn't his fault!" Anders protested, immediately drawing angry glares from both Fenris and Sten.

"You are beneath _Bas_ and dare speak to _Sten _in such a manner?" The Qunari yelled in anger.

"Forgive him, Sten!" Fenris exclaimed quickly as he slapped his left hand on Anders's shoulder and motioned with his head to kneel. Both mage and elf sank to their knees in front of the horned warrior. "He is _kabethari_, a thing which must be taught."

"As do you all," Sten's remarked coldly as he looked at the other foreign elves. Mirroring Fenris's gesture, Lanreth placed his hand on Tieral's shoulder and forced him to kneel along with him. He was soon followed by Bronwyn, as well as the rest of the former slaves.

"We are not the crew of this ship, we-" Fenris started to explain, but Sten quickly began speaking over him.

"That much is obvious. We saw the fighting taking place on this ship soon after we attacked. Do you think it's a coincidence that our cannons only struck your foes?" Sten asked rhetorically as he glanced around at the other elves. "The Tevinter Imperium's slave trade has increased in the past year and this we cannot abide."

"We thank you for timely assistance," Fenris remarked with a bow.

"You are most welcome, _Bas. _Your honesty and manners are a welcome surprise. Likewise for the sight of elves fighting to liberate themselves before we even stepped foot on this ship," Sten replied with a stern voice that seemed slightly at odds with his words of praise. His eyes still held a dangerous glint as he looked around again. "However, I doubt the crew of this ship was filled with amateurs!" Sten shouted suddenly. The hostages all shook from the outburst, even Fenris. "When we bring the sailors of this vessel to heel, will we find any evidence of magic?" The Qunari's voice lowered to a dangerous hiss. Anders stared blankly ahead and didn't even dare to gulp.

"No, Sten," Fenris lied with a supremely stoic expression.

"There are no mages among you?" Sten rephrased the question as if speaking to children. "If you are lying, you will all be put to death."

"We have no mages!" Fenris raised his voice and his eyes flashed in anger. "Look upon me, Sten! My life was made wretched by magic! If you know of my past during the Battle of Seheron, then you know I was a weapon of war, a tool for a cruel magister. I only gained my freedom because I was left behind when the Imperium's forces fled from the island! I hate them with every fiber of my being!" Fenris growled with complete sincerity.

"I see," Sten replied calmly as he regarded Fenris with slightly less disdain. "So explain to me the means of your escape."

"My... friend," Fenris stumbled slightly on the word as he nodded toward Anders, "fooled the crew of the Osprey into thinking that he hated elves. He enlisted the aid of the Osprey's cabin boy, who was able to pilfer the keys. It was the boy who freed us."

"And why would he risk such a thing for slaves?" Sten asked with a note of true curiosity.

"I... don't know..." Fenris turned to Anders.

"He was smitten with one of the elven women," Anders replied carefully. He sighed a bit in relief when he wasn't shouted at for speaking to Sten. The Qunari leader looked at the three women among the mostly male contingent of elves. All three of them blushed, especially raven-haired Bronwyn.

"And where is this valiant human boy?" Sten asked as he looked around.

"He was injured by my brother."

"Lanreth!" Tieral gasped at his sibling.

"I will not lie to our saviors, brother," Lanreth shot back with a firm shake of his head before turning to Sten. "My brother was freed first, and in a rage, he beat the boy into unconsciousness," Lanreth explained despite his brother's look of betrayal.

"You would attack the very instrument of your liberation?" Sten asked as he turned to regard Tieral.

"I-I..." the elf stuttered.

"He was afraid and angry... he lashed out. I don't condone what my brother did, but please have mercy," Lanreth pleaded.

"You _kabethari _are ruled by your whims and desires. No discipline, no restraint. You do not channel your rage for anything righteous, but rather let it harm everything around you, even those wishing to lend aid," Sten gesticulated with one hand, while he gripped his sword tightly with the other. "You fought for your freedom from slavery, but I offer you an even greater prize!" He paused to make eye contact with each and every hostage before continuing. "You have a chance to leave doubt and misery behind and embrace certainty and enlightenment," the horned commander bellowed with a fiery zeal in his golden eyes.

"What are our choices?" Tieral asked with an impertinent tone, though he quickly shrank under the withering glare that Sten sent his way. Lanreth gave his younger brother a mighty pinch to the arm.

"Embrace the one true path and join us on our ship as _viddathari_, new brothers and sisters of the Qun. Or deny your salvation and perish on our blades," Sten replied simply. His grip flexed on his sword.

"Anaan esaam Qun!" Fenris intoned once more. "I accept enlightenment," the elf added with a bow. The rest of the former slaves answered in kind, with varying degrees of enthusiasm and accuracy with the Qunari phrase. The only one who got it completely right was Lanreth. Sten turned to Anders who had yet to speak. The mage gulped, then nodded.

"I... accept," Anders said with a shaking voice.

"Welcome viddathari," Sten bellowed, though he seemed perhaps a trifle disappointed that all had accepted his terms. He turned to his men and issued orders in the Qunari tongue. The circle of swords parted and eight of the warriors split off from the rest. "Please follow my men to the _Ataash_, the Glory," he waved to the Qunari warship. "You will be seen by our healer."

"May I keep my cat?" Anders asked as he scooped Mab into his arms. His heartbeat kicked up a notch as he awaited the answer.

"It is _Terenbas_ and welcome on our ship," Sten replied with a nod after a moment of scrutiny.

"It means 'useful thing' in their language," Fenris whispered to Anders as the soldiers began to march with them in tow.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Lanreth exclaimed as one of the Qunari elves began to drag the one elf who had fallen in battle toward the edge of the ship.

"His essence has parted," the red-painted elf replied flatly.

"His name was Dermoth. Please, allow me to give him a few words for his passing," Lanreth pleaded.

"You are viddathari now. We Qunari do not mourn empty husks," Sten remarked with a note of finality and nodded to the Qunari elf. Dermoth was promptly tossed overboard. Lanreth watched the body fall into the ocean, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"What of the crew?" Anders blurted out, though he glanced in the direction of the captain's quarters opposite from where Enrique and the other men had fled. Fenris gave him an angry glare. The wide green eyes said "_shut the Blight up_" as clearly as any words.

"That is not your concern, viddathari," Sten answered simply.

* * *

Fenris sat on the examination table of the warship's clinic, bare-chested, but wearing a new, clean pair of tan cotton breeches. It cut quite a snug fit, but was still incredibly comfortable. Other than the similarly dressed Qunari healer, the clinic was empty.

Fenris could count on one hand the number of times he had been inside of Anders's clinic in Darktown. Still, from what he remembered, the onboard clinic was just as well stocked, if not more. There were rows and rows of various vials of all colors of the rainbow, rolls upon rolls of gauze and bandages within glassfront cases and cabinets, as well as several tomes, which the elf guessed were medical treatises.

"Drink," the healer said as he held out a small purple vial with a cork stopper.

"What is it?" Fenris asked with a suspicious look.

"For... leg," the healer was far less proficient with Thedosian common than Sten. The Qunari shook his head as he reconsidered his choice of words. "For _arm_. Drink," he added as he pulled the stopper off.

"How is this supposed to help my arm?" Fenris wondered aloud. He assumed the Qunari eschewed magic when dealing with the healing arts, but after the incident with the Antivan Grave's Kiss, or whatever it was that Anders had actually used, he was a little leery of potions in general.

"Drink!" The healer insisted with a raised voice.

"Fine, fine!" The elf acquiesced and took the vial in hand. "All of it?"

"All!" The healer said impatiently. Fenris scowled a bit as he brought the glass in front of his face, then he closed his eyes and drank it all in one go.

"My arm still hurts like... like... well..." the elf's speech began to slur a bit.

"Sleep," the healer said gently as he stood up and gently pushed Fenris back so that he was prone on the table. "Sleep," the Qunari continued as his eyes looked over the slim, elven body.

"That... sounds... like a good..." Fenris's voice trailed off as his eyes closed.

"Wake up already, we need to talk," Anders groused with a slight nudge.

"Whuh? Where?" Fenris's eyes opened. He turned his head and looked over at the mage, who was bare-chested and wearing tan breeches, as well. The elf's vision was slightly hazy, but he noticed that the blond's hair was tied back again.

"Why don't you let your hair down more?" Fenris blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Anders looked Fenris as if the elf had grown two heads.

"You are excused," the elf said with an embarrassed grunt as he slowly sat up. He looked around, but the Qunari healer was nowhere to be found. Anders was sitting in a chair right in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Fenris asked, followed by a loud yawn.

"Watching you sleep for the past hour or so," Anders muttered.

"Stop your jesting! I just closed my eyes... a moment ago," Fenris said with a shake of his head. It was a bad idea. He swooned at the sudden movement and leaned forward dangerously on the edge of the table. Anders quickly got up and placed both hands on the elf's shoulders to steady him. It was then that Fenris noticed the strap around his neck attached to the cloth cradle that held his right arm. The limb was bound by wooden slats that were wrapped securely with gauze. He lifted it slightly and stared.

"Your arm was broken in two places. Both above and below the elbow," Anders explained. "Your ribs and legs were also bruised, but nothing else was broken," the mage added.

"But how..." Fenris continued to look at his arm. "Was I really asleep for that long?"

"Yes. Without ma-" Anders quickly stopped himself, while Fenris looked sharply at him. "He induced a heavy sleep so that he could set your bones without pain."

"It aches," Fenris protested.

"Believe me. It could be much worse," Anders said with a serious look. "Now, are you really lucid or not? You look like someone just coming out of a late night at the Hanged Man."

"I'm fine," the elf protested. "What did you want to talk about?" Fenris asked while running his hand through his hair, then mussing it on a strange whim. The wild locks garnered him a curious look from Anders, but the mage soon shrugged and began to speak in hushed tones.

"First of all, thank you for-"

"No Anders, thank _you_," Fenris quickly cut in. He shook his head roughly again, necessitating another steadying hold from the mage.

"Stop shaking your head like that!" Anders ordered.

"Thank you for saving my life," Fenris elaborated with a voice tinged with clear remorse as he noticed the mage's bruised lip and cheek. "No one would have blamed you for leaving me, even Hawke, after what I did," the elf added.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Anders remarked with a slight undertone of anger. "Don't shake your head!" The mage immediately added as a precaution.

"I attacked you even though you had helped set me free. I might have even..." Fenris closed his eyes at the memory of his rage. "I'm glad your cat was there. What's her name again?"

"Mab."

"Where is Mab?"

"In our room."

"_Our_ room," Fenris asked with a confused look.

"Yes, _our_ room. The decision wasn't up to us. While you were being treated, the rest of us were given our room assignments."

"Yes, well, thank you Anders. I won't forget what you did for me," Fenris said sincerely.

"I didn't do it for you," Anders scoffed with a wave of his hand. "But... you're welcome. Now stop interrupting me."

"Fine," Fenris growled angrily. Anders smirked.

"Now that's more like the Fenris I know!"

"Just get to your point," the elf grumbled at the mage's mirth.

"Well, as strange as it is for us to be trading thank yous... thank you for not divulging my secret," Anders said with a slight frown.

"You don't seem very happy about that," Fenris remarked.

"Because we're not out of the Blight yet," Anders said.

"What Blight?" Fenris asked, utterly confused.

"Are you Merrill all of a sudden? Figure of speech, Fenris! Context! As in, we still have a problem," Anders answered impatiently.

"And what problem would that be? None of the other elves know about you, and I certainly won't tell," Fenris promised.

"I think Enrique..."

"Who?"

"The first mate of the Osprey. I think he saw me help you. But I'm not sure. He was fleeing below deck when I did."

"And how would he know your secret?" Fenris gave the mage an incredulous look.

"The whole crew of the Osprey does, actually."

"What?" Fenris shouted in dismay then whimpered instantly as he clutched at his left temple with his good hand from the blinding headache that had erupted.

"Will you keep your voice down!" The mage gasped.

"But why would you tell _everyone_ on that ship? Are you completely daft?"

"Esteban, the cabin boy who freed you was injured earlier in a fall from the crow's nest! He could've died! The only way to save him was to use magic," Anders whispered the final word.

"Oh."

"Besides, I'm not the only one who wasn't thinking too clearly."

"What do you mean?" Fenris asked with furrowed brows.

"You're a known associate of the Champion of Kirkwall and a lot more prominent at his side than I," Anders pointed out. "Hawke dueled the Arishok. With magic. Your little 'I hate all mages' speech earlier won't hold up for long if any our Qunari meet ones that witnessed that."

"Hah!" Fenris laughed.

"I fail to see the humor in that," Anders muttered dryly.

"Do you really think _any_ Qunari will want to be the one to even imply that the Arishok, one of the three pillars of Qunari society was bested in combat by a _bas saarebas,_ a foreign mage?"

"Still..."

"It's _not_ going to happen. Even if someone let that slip, no faithful Qunari will believe it. And they are _all_ faithful," Fenris said confidently.

"That applies to us now, by the way, or need I remind you of current events," Anders narrowed his eyes.

"There was no other way," Fenris retorted angrily.

"I know. Don't get your underclothes in a bunch." Anders held his palms up placatingly. Fenris just grunted. He rubbed at his temple some more but the potion-induced headache was slowly receding.

"Has the crew been flushed out, yet?" Fenris asked after a moment's pause.

"I don't know. None of us have been allowed topside since going below deck." Anders chewed his lower lip nervously. "I just wish I knew if Enrique saw me or not. He was a right bastard to me and I know he would tell the Qunari in a heartbeat if he knew I had anything to do with your escape."

"We'll deny it, then. It will be the word of slaves versus slavers, and I think we both know who the Qunari will favor," Fenris replied. By impulse, he reached forward with the intention of squeezing the mage's shoulder in reassurance. However, Fenris stopped just before his fingers made contact. The mage regarded him with a raised brow, then looked at the hand frozen in the space between them. Fenris quickly retracted it. Both men were silent for a moment. Before either could say anything, the door to the clinic swung open and the Qunari medic walked in with two large Qunari soldiers. Anders and Fenris gulped in unison.

"Good, you... awake," the healer said haltingly to Fenris, though the elf was eyeing the armed guards. "Take this... if... pain, yes?" The healer said. When Fenris didn't respond, he waved the small vial in front of his face. The elf's green eyes crossed slightly at the equally green vial of liquid that had been shoved inches from his nose. It wasn't quite the same color, but nevertheless, it immediately reminded the elf of the vial that Anders had smashed onto the floor during their first confrontation on the Osprey. Fenris looked over at Anders and from the blush on the mage's cheeks, he knew Anders was thinking the same thing. Their eyes met for a split second, before both men quickly looked away.

"I'll be fine, thanks," Fenris started to shake his head, but wisely stopped before causing himself more pain.

"No! You take!" The healer wouldn't take no for an answer and pressed the vial into Fenris's good hand. The elf reluctantly curled his fingers around the offering, while the Qunari continued. "If pain, drink small. _Small_ drink. Understand?"

"Yes. Thank you," Fenris said with a slight nod, then he lifted his right arm slightly. "And thank you for this."

"No move like that!" The healer admonished, but he grinned, obviously pleased with both his handiwork and his patient's gratitude. "Sten want see you. Go. Up," the healer pointed.

"Why?" Anders and Fenris both asked nervously. The healer only shrugged. The two guards grunted and pointed toward the clinic door. The elf relunctantly stepped off of the examination table. One guard walked ahead of him and Anders, while the other positioned himself behind the pair. The four of them stepped out of the clinic into a narrow hallway. They passed a few rooms with closed doors, then ascended a short set of stairs to the deck.

The sun was high in the sky, prompting both men to shield their eyes. Once their eyes had adjusted to the glare, they found themselves alongside Lanreth, Tieral, Bronwyn, and the other former slaves of the Osprey. Facing them and lining the warship's railing were the Qunari warriors, with Sten in the center. The single human warrior and three elves of the Qunari were on the ends, so that this time, the center of the line was an unbroken line of tall, broad shoulders. What lay beyond was completely blocked from sight. Though none of the warriors held bows, Fenris felt like he was facing down a firing squad. He glanced at Anders, whose brow was beaded with sweat.

"Do you know what is going on here?" Lanreth asked Fenris nervously.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," the pale-haired elf responded.

"Viddathari! You have been called to the deck of the Ataash to witness-" Sten stopped for a moment as Mab sauntered onto the deck near the line of soldiers.

"Mab! How did you get out of the room?" Anders whispered harshly.

Sten raised a brow at the cat as she began weave her body between his massive, dangerous looking feet.

"Mab, get over here!" Anders ordered. The cat ignored him. "I'm very sorry-"

"You have been called to witness something as glorious as this ship itself!" Sten started anew, choosing to ignore both the cat and her owner.

"Mab!" Anders hissed and knelt to the ground. Finally the cat responded and scampered across the deck toward his waiting arms.

"Behold, the certainty of the Qun!" Sten bellowed. Heavy footsteps sounded as the soldiers began to move, but Anders kept his eyes on Mab. She jumped into his arms just as all the viddathari elves except for Fenris and Lanreth began to cheer. Tieral and Bronwyn were the loudest by far, with the latter letting out a shrill, triumphant ululation.

"Well, Anders, it looks like our prayers have been answered," Fenris remarked with an odd tone to his voice.

"Hmmm?" Anders stood up with Mab cradled in his arms. He glanced over to Fenris first, then followed the elf's gaze to the railing which was no longer blocked from view. His breath caught as he saw several heads skewered on pikes. The one directly across from him belonged to Enrique, his lifeless eyes wide open and his face frozen in a rictus of sheer terror. It was a chilling sight, but it was completely eclipsed by the severed head Anders saw just to the left of the first mate. The mage stumbled and Mab jumped from his arms. Anders would have fallen to the deck, had it not been for Fenris's left arm, which quickly caught him around the waist.

"No... Montoya," Anders let out a choked gasp.


	11. The Dividing Line

_Author's Note: I've been wavering on whether or not to capitalize Qunari. The Dragon Wiki has it in lowercase, but since it's the name for an identity that encompasses more than just one race, I've decided to go with the uppercase for now. I'll backtrack soon and bring the other chapters up to date._

**Chapter 11: The Dividing Line**

"No... Montoya," Anders gasped. His horror at the sight of the captain's head on a pike warred with a seething surge of triumphant joy. The mixture of contradictory emotions made his head spin.

"_Yes! He has received his just reward along with all of his wretched crew!"_ Justice's voice boomed in his head. Anders moaned unintelligibly in response and closed his eyes. Fenris's grip tightened as Anders almost sank to the deck again. To keep him up, the elf had to press the mage firmly against his side. He could feel Anders's every breath, as well as the shudders that seemed to run from the mage's lower spine up to his shoulders.

"Anders, get a hold of yourself," Fenris whispered harshly, though his gaze was on Sten. The Qunari commander was watching them with narrowed eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" Sten asked in a loud, deep voice that carried clearly over the cheering from the viddathari. "Surely this is a moment of celebration, is it not?"

"My friend is a scholar, not a warrior. He is not accustomed to the sight of so much blood," Fenris quickly explained.

"I see." Sten blinked impassively as he looked at the pale-haired elf and blond mage, then turned to look at Mab who was currently cleaning a paw. "His _terenbas _is made of sterner stuff. Take him back to his quarters," the horned leader with a tilt of his head.

"Anders, come along," Fenris urged, pulling him gently at first by the waist. When the man barely moved, Fenris gave him a rough tug. Anders shook violently, causing Fenris's hold to slacken in surprise. The mage fell forward onto his knees and vomited, though his stomach had been empty save for water that the Qunari had provided in his room. The sour liquid dribbled down his chin as he began to dry heave.

"And now he wastes our gift of freshwater," Sten remarked coldly. Lanreth quickly separated from the other viddathari and knelt down at Anders's side opposite from Fenris.

"Anders, you _have_ to get up. You're making a scene," the elven warrior whispered nervously.

"Damnit... it's Justice," Anders coughed and shook.

"Yes, it is justice, but it's still horrifying to see," Lanreth replied calmly, misunderstanding Anders completely. Fenris's eyes widened in fear, however.

"_Control_ yourself Anders!" The pale-haired elf ordered harshly under his breath.

"I am in... control... but our feelings are... are so at... odds," Anders explained with halting breaths.

"He is not making sense," Lanreth said.

"Help me get him up!" Fenris exclaimed, ignoring the auburn-haired elf's statement. Thankfully Lanreth was more concerned with helping than prying and immediately obeyed.

"I think he might need the healer," Lanreth remarked. Fenris nodded.

"Sten, please, our friend needs to see the healer," Fenris called out. The Qunari leader rolled his eyes at that, but waved his hand in dismissive assent.

"So be it," Sten answered in disgust. He motioned to two of his soldiers, who quickly flanked Lanreth and Fenris as they made their way back below deck.

The clinic was only a short walk away and the door was already open once they arrived. Fenris and Lanreth both blinked in surprise when they caught sight of Esteban on the examination table, with the large healer hovering over him. The cabin boy's eyes were closed and he had ugly-looking bruises on his face and forearms, but the rise and fall of his chest was deep and even. Hearing the shuffling behind him, the Qunari healer turned and fixed them with a curious gaze that quickly shifted to worry as he looked over at Anders.

"What wrong?" The healer asked as the the two elves guided the human in.

"He's in pain," Fenris said far more truthfully than he really understood. The elf was grasping at straws, but remembering the peace that overcame him earlier in the clinic, an idea quickly presented itself. "Can you make him sleep? Like you did for me?"

"I need see what wrong," the healer said, but Fenris shook his head.

"He saw too much death, too much blood. He needs to sleep!"

"Yes... sleep... please," Anders moaned through gritted teeth as he gripped his head. His eyes were watering, though no true tears had yet fallen. A look of understanding settled on the Qunari's face.

"Sten show too much. Always. Yes, make sick, such sight," the healer remarked with a nod. He stood up away from Esteban, then walked over to one of the glass-front cabinets. He pulled out a now familiar purple vial. He closed the cabinet, then approached the trio. "You shake too much," he observed of Anders. "Open mouth, I give," the healer instructed. Anders tilted his head back and obeyed. He eagerly gulped the odd, almost sugary tasting liquid.

"Thank... you..." Anders swooned and his eyelids slowly closed.

* * *

"Anders?" A deep, but soft voice called out.

"Hmmm?" Anders's eyes blinked open. He felt slightly disoriented, but far better than when he had been admitted to the clinic. He was on a soft bed, rather than the examination table. It took him a moment to realize that he was back in the room that Sten had assigned to him earlier. The smell of incense was heavy in the air, causing him to cough momentarily. The resultant headache made him moan and close his eyes. He pressed the back of his head into the pillow behind him.

"Anders, are you okay?" The voice called out again. When Anders opened his brown eyes, they stared up at brilliant green ones.

"Your eyes... are very green," Anders whispered before he could stop himself. Both he and Fenris blinked in silence at the unexpected, random observation, though the elf recovered first and furrowed his brows.

"What happened to you on the deck?" Fenris asked as he pulled a chair over and sat down next to the bed.

"I wasn't expecting to see Montoya's head on a pike," Anders said with a shudder.

"That's obvious. But what was that about Justice?" Fenris pressed with a suspicious glare.

"Justice was... overjoyed at the sight. I... I was not. I couldn't handle the clash of emotions. It almost felt like my head was being torn apart..." Anders whispered. "I'm fine now, though. Justice is dormant. I think he got his fill of retribution," he added. The cold stare Fenris was giving him was suddenly unbearable and he averted his eyes. The mage fixed his gaze on the wall next to the bed.

"Then perhaps it would serve you and your health better to see Justice's point of view," Fenris drawled. The snide tone instantly drew Anders's gaze back from the wall.

"And you would have me agree with a _demon_?" The mage shot back, using Fenris's preferred term for Justice.

"In this case, the demon and I are in perfect accord," Fenris snapped in return, though he kept his voice down. He glanced at the closed door to their room for a moment, before turning back to Anders. "That man and his crew were _slavers,_ Anders! Montoya and his men got _exactly_ what they deserved!" The elf's eyes gleamed and his face broke out momentarily into a feral smile.

"There was another side to the man!" Anders argued with a voice laden with grief as he slowly sat up in the bed. "I didn't know about the rest at first! I lied to him. I completely betrayed him during our final moments together. Can you imagine how that makes me feel?"

"That is what separates the two of us! _I_ make sure to truly know someone well before sex, or Maker forbid, _feelings_ ever enter the picture!" Fenris snarled with eyes blazing.

"That's so easy for you to say! Maybe you can control your feelings, but I can't! He was _good _to me," Anders voice softened at the end and he looked away for a moment.

"So you mean to say that his slaver cock was so addictive that you would overlook everything else?" The elf hissed. "How often did you whore yourself to him while I lay in the slave hold?"

"I whored myself to him plenty!" Anders growled in defiance. "Including the time I put him to sleep so that I could get to his keys and rescue your blighted, ungrateful ass!" The mage whispered back harshly and stared right at Fenris. The green eyes that were full of anger shifted immediately into an expression of guilt. Anders pressed his advantage with his sharp tongue. "This _whore_ knew nothing of what was happening in the beginning, but once I did, I tried my best to save you. And look what I received as thanks!" He pointed to his face.

"Anders... I..." Fenris winced as he looked over the bruised cheek he had given the man. The bruise had steadily deepened in color over the hours, and though it was healing, it was far more noticeable now compared to earlier in the day. The elf studied the darkened, mottled skin, but could no longer meet the mage's eyes. His face reddened in shame as he looked at the wall. Fenris opened his mouth, but whereas the mage clearly expected an apology, instead Fenris asked in a quiet voice, "why?"

"What?" Anders snarled.

"Why?" Fenris repeated. Anders said nothing. The silence stretched until Fenris finally, tentatively looked back at the blond apostate. The brown eyes locked onto his.

"I didn't do it for you," Anders answered through gritted teeth.

"That makes no sense," Fenris shook his head slightly, but didn't look away.

"As much sense as a mage-hater falling in love with a mage," Anders snapped. Fenris's eyes hardened at the remark. Before he could say anything, Anders looked over at the small cabinet that rested between their room's two beds. "Go to the cabinet and open the bottom drawer," the apostate ordered in a voice that brooked no argument. Fenris gave him a curious look, but did as he was told. He walked over to the cabinet, then knelt down and pulled the bottom drawer out.

"My scarf," Fenris whispered just loud enough for Anders to hear.

"As much as I hate it, I know the depth of his feelings for you," Anders said in a remarkably gentle voice. "You may never believe this, but I love him just as much as you do. I did it for him, not you," he added solemnly.

"Thank you, nevertheless," Fenris replied softly. "You're a better man than I took you for."

"Surprise!" Anders remarked sarcastically.

"You deserve far better than a slaver captain who seduced you with lies," Fenris remarked. Unable to tie the scarf around his wrist with only one arm, he pocketed it in his breeches.

"And yet for nearly a decade I've found myself completely alone," Anders replied with an accusatory glare at the elf. _"And it's all your fault," _was left unspoken, but clearly understood between the two rivals. Fenris was about to say something else when there was a loud knock on their door.

"It's open!" Both men yelled. They both blinked in surprise as an unfamiliar Qunari opened the door. Mab was cradled in one arm as the Qunari regarded them with what looked almost like a smile.

"Hello viddathari and welcome to the Glory. I am the captain, Vasravaan Seraat," the Qunari greeted them while petting the cat with his massive hand.

"I thought Sten was the captain," Anders remarked in confusion, though his eyes were on Mab. The giant hand petting her made the mage supremely nervous.

"Sten is the leader of the military regiment on this ship, but I am the captain of the vessel. Unlike Sten, I have also given you my name, not only my rank. May I have yours?"

"Anders," the mage replied quickly.

"Fenris," the elf offered just after the blond.

"What is his real name?" Anders asked, lifting his gaze from Mab to the Qunari captain.

"That is not for me to tell," Vasravaan answered with a frown. "It is considered rude to ask anyone but the Qunari whose name you wish to know. Rank is what you may ask others for when wishing to know how another Qunari may be addressed."

"Sorry," Anders said, though he hardly sounded apologetic.

"Who is the leader of the ship? You or Sten?" Fenris asked before Anders could. The Qunari considered the question for a moment.

"I navigate the vessel and guide the sailors. Sten protects the vessel and guides the soldiers. We are both leaders," Vasravaan explained.

"Who has more authority, then?" Fenris asked, his curiosity piqued.

"That depends on the task, naturally," Vasravaan replied with a tilt of his head. He stopped petting Mab for a moment to scratch his chin. "Though, you are still viddathari. You will soon learn that everything has a place in the Qun. Once your place is known, there is no conflict. You will work as part of a greater whole, bringing glory to yourself and your fellow Qunari," Vasravaan added with a sweep of his hand before he began petting Mab once more. "Take this _terenbas_ for example. Since it has been on the ship, it has massacred many of the vermin that gnaw at our food reserves. It guided several of my sailors to a nest of the _ethraalbas_, the filthy things, which we promptly rooted out. The _terenbas _is a leader in its own field of expertise. When engaged in an endeavor, is not the leader determined by the task?" The Qunari asked rhetorically as he set the cat down on the floor.

"I see your point," Fenris said with a nod as Mab sauntered past him and jumped onto the bed with Anders.

"Come here, you sneaky girl," Anders said as he grabbed Mab and pulled her onto his lap. The mage seemed to forget both the Qunari and the elf in his room while he fussed over the cat. Fenris looked at him briefly before rolling his eyes and returning his attention to the captain.

"And what will our place be as part of this greater whole?" Fenris asked.

"That is for the Tamassran to evaluate and assign," Vasravaan replied as if the answer was glaringly obvious.

"The what?" Anders asked while Mab began kneading at the blankets that covered his lap.

"The priestess," Fenris and the Captain both replied. The Qunari nodded at the elf with light smile.

"Yes. Your knowledge of Qunari language and customs has impressed many aboard the Ataash. Even Sten, which is no small feat," Vasravaan said.

"I'm humbled that you think so, but there's still much that I don't know," Fenris remarked with a shake of his head.

"The Tamassran has a saying. 'Knowing that you do not know is the seed of wisdom.'" Vasravaan intoned with a slight nod. "Do not worry. As viddathari, you are new to our ways. The Tamassran will teach you, so that you have a better grasp of our customs and how to conduct yourself as proper Qunari," Vasravaan said to both the elf and human. He then looked squarely at Anders. "She will also instruct you in our language, so that you are longer like _meraas_ _imekari,_" the captain added with a sly look at Fenris.

"What does that mean?" Anders asked, glancing at the elf.

"Someone unfamiliar with the language," Fenris answered somewhat truthfully, though he knew the exact definition was "_a child bleating without meaning_."

"Is she on the ship?" Anders asked, his eyes wide with curiosity, as he had never seen a female Qunari. Vasravaan looked at him in complete silence, the golden eyes carefully scrutinizing the human's face. Finally the Qunari shook his head.

"Oh, the questions you ask! I have to remind myself that there is so much the Tamassran must teach you!" The captain's voice held just the hint of a chuckle. "A warship is no place for a woman. Rare exceptions for when travel is necessary, of course, but never this far in kabethari waters. No, the priestess resides in Seheron. And as viddathari, your place is with her."

"We sail for Seheron?" Fenris asked with an odd note to his voice.

"Do not worry, viddathari. Your past on the island is known, but you were not Qunari then. Prove your loyalty to the Qun and that past will be irrelevant."

"And how do I prove myself?" Fenris pressed with furrowed brows.

"That is up to the Tamassran," the captain answered. "Now before I forget, I would like to discuss the most basic rules for your time on this ship. As viddathari, you are not prisoners, but until you are fully evaluated, certain precautions must be followed. You have free rein to roam this portion of the deck at your discretion. Guards are posted at the entrance to this level and will prevent you, by force if necessary, from wandering to other parts of the ship unescorted. However, no guards will be posted at your doors, and all Qunari are required to knock before entering, even Sten," Vasravaan added with a smirk.

"That's not a lot of room to move around," Anders remarked. He averted his gaze when Fenris shot him a dirty look.

"That's far more room than the _accommodations_ I had on the previous ship," the elf muttered. Anders studied the fine grain of the wood on the wall and avoided Fenris's eyes. Vasravaan watched the two for a moment before continuing.

"Do not worry, though. Three times a day you will be allowed supervised time on deck along with meals." The Captain paused and looked over to one corner of the room. "As you can see, a chamber pot has been provided for you, but I strongly recommend that you use the privy at the stern of the ship during your time on deck. Also, if you are not feeling well, you can request an escort to the clinic at any time. Incense and tea can also be procured there."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Vasravaan," Fenris said sincerely. Anders had finally stopped looking at the wall.

"Yes, thank you," the blond added.

"You are most welcome. I just have one final request before I return to my duties."

"Yes?" Fenris and Anders both asked as one.

"Your terenbas has been very useful indeed," Vasravaan looked over at Mab. "It would please me greatly if it roamed the ship at its leisure so that it may continue to root out vermin."

"Um... okay," Anders said after a moment's hesitation. His brown eyes widened as he thought of something. "She likes high places. Make sure that anyone who uses the crow's nest of the ship knows that she might be hiding up there at random times. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Noted," Vasravaan gave him a quizzical look, but nodded. "_Panahedan_," he said in farewell, to which both the elf and human replied in kind.

* * *

"Puuuuush!" Varric yelled as he strained against the barrel alongside Hawke. Together with Diego, they rolled the heavy container of water up the gangplank. All three men were bare-chested and sweating profusely. They continued to heave and grunt against the barrel, their muscles tensed and in stark relief under the hot sun.

"Don't you dare relieve yourself on me!" Hawke yelled as a seagull flew right over his head. The bird squawked as it soared by, but luckily spared the mage any mess. It joined a flock of other seagulls that were currently cawing at the fishing boat that had pulled into Llomerynn harbor alongside the Cormorant.

"A little to the left!" Merrill called out from above. She stood on the deck of the galleon just to the left of the gangplank. The three men instantly followed her orders and shifted slightly to that side. Given the shape of the barrel and the sloshing contents, it constantly wobbled from one side to the other. "Wait! Too much! To the right, to the right!" Merrill exclaimed with her rich brogue. The anchored ship was relatively empty except for the quartet, as well as two sailors who were tending to the sails and ropes above them.

"She has a lovely voice, that one," Diego said with a grin. "Even lovelier eyes," the Rivaini sailor added.

"She's taken," Varric said with a grunt as the men neared the top of the wooden ramp.

"Alas, all the best ones are. Still, it's a pleasure to listen to her voice. Makes a task such as this far more enjoyable." Diego grinned, before he gritted his teeth and pushed harder.

"Almost there!" Merrill cheered and clapped her hands.

"My ass is going to be sore after this," Hawke grunted as he strained against the barrel. "And not in the good way!"

"There!" Varric huffed as the three men pushed the barrel onto the deck of the ship. Without the incline, it was a far easier task to roll it over to the group of several, identical barrels a few yards to the side. Like clockwork, the three men positioned themselves on one side of the barrel and quickly stood it on one end. They paused for a moment to catch their breath, all three bent over and resting hands on their upper thighs.

"Just four more!" Merrill called out.

"Ser Hawke... while I am more than happy to help you, surely we can wait until the rest of the sailors return from shore leave," Diego panted.

"Seconded," Varric added. "The food has been packed away and we've given the crew a head start on transporting the water. It won't take them long to store the rest."

"I know... I just want to be off for Minrathous as soon as possible," Hawke replied, though he looked even more exhausted than his companions. That fact didn't escape the dwarf's notice.

"The spell you've been using to give us greater stamina has been amazing. We've shaved off a couple of hours of work for the crew, but I think we've hit the point of diminishing returns. You look like you're about to fall over at any second," Varric pointed out.

"Okay, okay, you win," Hawke panted, then sat down with his legs crossed. Varric's strong hand gripped his shoulder and then the dwarf sank down next to him. Diego remained standing, but leaned back against the railing.

"Thank you," Diego breathed out a sigh of relief.

"No, thank you for helping Diego," Hawke smiled at the sailor who had been the friendliest of Isabela's crew.

"It's the least I could do for all the extra coin you provided for the crew's shore leave. It just didn't feel right to rush into town to spend it all. I won't lie, though. The crew would have preferred a full day and night for shore leave, but coin always goes a long way toward smoothing things over," Diego replied with a smirk.

"If the situation were different, I'd be more than happy to spend a few days here in Llomerynn. It seems like a lovely place," Hawke craned his neck so he could see more of the city proper above the railing from his seated position. "Except for the seagulls," the mage added with a frown. "Kirkwall never had so many. There's more bird shit in this single city than there is dog shit in all of Fereldan!"

"I don't know about that," Varric scoffed.

"It is lovely place," Merrill agreed as she walked over to stand near Hawke and Varric. "And I don't think I've ever seen so many Dalish elves in a city before."

"Your people have always been welcome in Rivain," Diego remarked.

"A lot of Qunari, too," Hawke mentioned as he clearly saw a trio of the horned giants moving along a nearby street, towering over the other pedestrians.

"A few," Diego agreed. "Rivaini ways are not so at odds with theirs. I'd take them over pompous, hypocritical Chantry zealots any day."

"I wouldn't go that far. Maybe we could just spirit them off to some remote island where they could work out their theological differences and leave the rest of us alone," Hawke mused.

"I'd toast to that!" Varric said as he mimicked having an actual mug in hand.

"Speaking of which, we could all use a drink..." Hawke paused and sniffed at his armpits, "and a bath!"

"I'll pass, actually," Diego shook his head gently. "Isabela will need at least one sober sailor if we intend to sail before night fall," he chuckled. He gave the trio a nod and a wave before heading to his quarters.

"Alright you, two, let's head into town!" Hawke yelled as he stood up with renewed energy.

* * *

"Varric?" Hawke asked, his breath wafting through the steamy vapor rising from his bathwater.

"Yes?" The dwarf asked to the mage's right. Both men were almost completely submerged in their bath basins, with only their heads resting above the sudsy water.

"Thank you for suggesting baths first, drinks later," Hawke murmured. "As comfortable as this is, I do think I would've been at risk for drowning had we done things in the opposite order."

"Less talk, more soak," Varric mumbled with closed eyes as he let the warm water soothe his sore muscles. He opened them once more when he heard the door open. The lithe, blond elf attendant walked in with a steaming pail of water.

"Would either of you like more hot water?" The elf asked them both, but his green eyes were solely on Hawke.

"I'm fine," Varric said. Hawke's answer took another moment.

"No, thank you," the mage replied, his brown eyes staring up at the green ones. The elf's eyes roamed downward.

"If there's _anything_ else I can do for you, please let me know," the elf drawled with a bold wink at the mage.

"That's... that's very kind of you," Hawke replied with an almost embarrassed smile.

"You know where to find me," the elf murmured before leaving the room.

"I can't believe you," Varric muttered.

"What?" Hawke asked. Varric grunted and splashed water his way.

"Flirting with that elf."

"Varric, he was flirting with _me._ Not the other way around," Hawke protested.

"Hmmph."

"I tell you about one indiscretion, and now you think I'm always on the prowl!" Hawke scoffed, though his voice held a hint of anger.

"Yes, about that. So you _are_ telling Fenris about all that, once we find him?"

"Well... maybe not _immediately_ after we rescue him. I mean, really Varric? I can see it already. 'Fenris, my love! I'm so glad we saved you from slavery to the magisters! Oh, and by the way, a few months ago, I let Anders gobble down on my-'"

"Yes, yes, I get it!" Varric cut him off.

"You know, the more I think about it, is it really worth telling him? I mean, would you consider that really-"

"Hawke, let me put this bluntly," Varric interrupted him again. "Someone other than your lover put his mouth on a part of you which is pretty much hands off for anyone but you and your lover. There's a fine line between flirting and infidelity. You most certainly crossed that line with Anders."

"Ugh."

"That's your only response?"

"Ugh, I hate when you're right," Hawke elaborated before delivering a large splash of water in Varric's direction.

"Garrett Hawke... be careful who you're splashing-" The dwarf was interrupted by another spray of water that hit him right in the face. "Oh! It's on!" The dwarf growled with laughter in his voice. The room soon erupted into twin torrents of water that covered both of the men and the floor.

* * *

"Did you both fall into the harbor?" Isabel asked with furrowed brows. "You both are sopping wet!"

"Um, not exactly," Hawke murmured as he looked at Varric, then back at Isabela. The captain looked over at Merrill, who was completely dry save for slightly damp hair. The Dalish elf shrugged. The four of them were in the captain's quarters. Isabela stood across a large table from the other three with her arms crossed.

"We got our clothing wet at the bath house," Varric muttered.

"Couldn't you at least have dried off a bit more before coming back to the ship? You're dripping all over my floor!" She turned around, opened a large cabinet, then threw two towels in their direction. Varric caught his easily in hand, but the other flew into Hawke's face just as he was about to answer. He pulled the towel away with as much dignity as he could manage, then began to run it over his wet clothes.

"We... had to get out of the bath house in a hurry," Hawke said vaguely, though the image of the shocked bathing attendant staring at the completely wet floor and walls flashed in his mind.

"I had just finished my bath and was waiting in the greeting hall. Varric and Hawke came running out and we quickly left. There was some shouting behind us," Merrill added with a confused look.

"I don't even want to know," Isabela gave them an exasperated smirk, then held up a large scroll.

"What's that?" Hawke and Varric asked at the same time. Merrill just peered at it silently.

"A map of northern Thedas," Isabela answered as she leaned over the table and spread the scroll out. "Dry your hair Hawke, not just your clothes," Isabela ordered when an errant droplet of water landed on the map. She blotted at the scroll with a handkerchief.

"What's that blue line?" Hawke asked as he traced the marking on the map with his eyes. With the map upside down, it took him a moment to realize just what it was. The captain spun the map around so that her friends could see it rightside up. "Ah, the maritime border between Tevinter and Seheron," Hawke whispered. The line ran west from Kont-Aar in northern Rivain, and snaked through the straits separating the Tevinter Imperium from the massive island to the north.

"Unofficial at best, since Tevinter never signed the Llomerynn Accord," Isabela said with a nod. "While the Imperium has remained at war with the Qunari, it was still relatively safe for ships of other nations to sail south of this line," she added with a touch of her finger to the map.

"I hear a 'but' coming," Hawke whispered.

"_But_ in recent weeks there has been increased activity across the line," Isabela added.

"How do you know?" Hawke asked.

"While some of you were getting into who knows what kind of mischief at the bath house, I was busy gathering information for the next segment of our journey," Isabela paused. "I knew it was a bad sign to see that Qunari warship. Trading vessels are one thing, but a warship so far from Par Vollen and Seheron? Not good. And now along the maritime border," she pointed to the line again, "there are reports that non-Tevinter ships have been attacked by our horned friends."

"Just what we needed," Hawke murmured sarcastically.

"Exactly," Isabela remarked with a grim expression. "Assuming the Osprey is still headed for Minrathous, we might see a few more Qunari ships along the way."

* * *

"You barely ate anything," Fenris remarked as he and Anders entered their room. The low rays of the setting sun streamed in through the portholes and painted the room a reddish hue reminiscent of the warpaint the Qunari soldiers wore. Fenris walked over to his bed and sat down. "The food really isn't all that bad," the elf added as he chewed on the last of a dry biscuit.

"I didn't know that you cared," Anders snapped as he walked over to his own bed, then flopped down across it with his face in his pillow.

"It was just an observation," Fenris muttered defensively. Anders was still for a moment, before he turned with just his head to look at the elf.

"Your powers of observation are simply astounding!" The apostate shot back.

"Are you being sarcastic?" Fenris frowned.

"And what tipped you off?" Anders sneered.

"What put you into such a mood? We had a reasonably good meal, relative to what I've had on ships before. We got fresh air on the deck, we-"

"Need I remind you that I am a _mage_? On a _Qunari_ ship? If they ever find out about me, I'll end up like Ketojan... or worse! Who knows what they do to foreign mages, especially ones who have been deceiving them."

"Anders..." Fenris's expression softened a touch. "We've discussed this before. I'll never tell."

"That's all well and good, but you'll have to excuse my rather sour mood, because I can't exactly relax. They're taking us to Seheron. _Seheron_, Fenris_._ I don't relish spending the rest of my days in the tropical north surrounded by people who would love nothing more than to sew my mouth shut and put me in chains if they ever knew who I really was. And that's assuming they don't just kill me outright!"

"We won't be there forever," Fenris remarked. Anders narrowed his eyes at the confident tone.

"And how do you know that?"

"Anders, we've both seen Qunari outside of Qunari lands. And not only Tal-vashoth. If we prove our loyalty, who is to say that we might not be allowed to travel back to Kirkwall. As eager as they are for converts, it behooves them to not only treat us well, but to release us to spread the word." Anders mulled that over for a bit, but he shook his head.

"There's one glaring problem with that."

"And that would be?"

"Time. How long do you think it will be before they let us go, if they ever do? And who is to say that our _evaluation_ with the Tamassran won't dictate a lifetime of servitude on Seheron?"

"You're right," Fenris replied simply.

"Huh?" Anders blurted out in surprise.

"I said that you're right," Fenris repeated himself.

"Well. Okay," Anders's voice trailed off, unsure of where to go now that the elf had agreed with him.

"We will just have to wait and see what awaits us on Seheron," Fenris added. He seemed about to say something more, but the sound of heavy footsteps brought his attention to the door. There was soon a loud knock.

"Come in," Fenris and Anders called out.

"_Shanedan_ Fenris, Anders," Captain Vasravaan said as he opened the door. They greeted him in return. The Qunari stepped aside slightly, revealing the former cabin boy of the Osprey.

"Esteban!" Anders immediately got up off the bed and hurried over.

"Anders!" The cabin boy said with clear excitement, though his voice was slightly strained. He stepped past the captain and soon found himself wrapped in a hug. His breath caught slightly, causing Anders to pull back.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to embrace you so hard. Are you feeling okay?" Anders quickly looked him over from head to toe. The boy's lip was split and his cheek bruised. Esteban smiled as he returned the scrutiny.

"I've been better. It looks like we have matching tattoos," the boy joked as he pointed to the bruise on his cheek which was almost in the same position as the mage's. Fenris remained seated on his bed and blushed slightly.

"Very funny!" Anders smirked. "Have you been asleep all this time?"

"No," Esteban's expression fell slightly.

"After he was attended to by our healer, the youth was questioned by Sten. For quite some time," the captain replied.

"Ah," Anders managed to utter with a carefully schooled, neutral expression.

"Your version of events matched the boy's testimony," the captain said with a nod.

"Of course it did," Anders exclaimed quickly with a smile that was a tad too large. He then looked away from the captain and back to the former cabin boy. "Have you been assigned to a room yet?"

"Actually, that's why we are here," the captain answered for him. "Due to the number of soldiers we currently have aboard, this hall is the only one we have set aside for viddathari. And we have no more beds left. The boy indicated a strong preference for lodging with you."

"That would be more than fine. He can share my bed," Anders replied with a nod. The captain looked at him, completely flummoxed. The blond gulped. "Did I say something wrong? Again?"

"Ah, you have so much to learn, viddathari," the captain chuckled with a shake of his head. "No, he is a child. And a child that has been weaned never shares a bed with an adult. No, he is to have his own bed. You and Fenris are to share."

"What?" Fenris and Anders gasped.

"Is there a problem?" The captain asked.

"Yes!" Fenris and Anders replied in unison once again. They stared at the captain, then at each other, then back to the Qunari. The captain gave them a curious look.

"My... my arm! He might injure it when he tosses and turns!" Fenris offered as an excuse.

"He smells!" Anders blurted in response. "That's why we have so much incense burning!"

"I got the incense!" Fenris growled.

"I was under the impression that the two of you were friends. Surely you have shared a bed before?"

"Never!" Both men lied instantly.

"I see. Well, no time like the present," the captain gave them an impatient wave of his hand. "You can have more incense," Vasravaan looked at Anders, "and you can simply sleep with your injured side away from him," he said to Fenris. "I must go. _Panehedan_."

"Panehedan," Fenris replied glumly, while Esteban and Anders simply said "goodbye."

"Fenris, Esteban. Esteban, Fenris," Anders introduced the two.

"Hello, ser," Esteban nodded.

"Hello, Esteban. Thank you for your help. I'm... sorry for what happened when you tried to set us free," Fenris said carefully. The boy winced, which caused the elf to do the same.

"I'd rather not talk about it, if that's all right with you, ser," Esteban replied.

"Of course," Fenris remarked. All three were silent for a moment, when the boy spoke up.

"Regarding the sleeping arrangements, I'm sorry, but I had hoped that you two had made up," Esteban said shyly while looking at the floor.

"Listen, Esteban. There's nothing going on between myself and Fenris. And there never was. It was simply a misunderstanding."

"Okay," Esteban looked up and gave Anders an incredulous look. "If you say so," the boy rolled his eyes every so slightly. Anders frowned, but before he could respond, Fenris cut in.

"More importantly, you didn't imply to the Qunari about any sort of sexual relationship between us, did you?" Fenris asked tensely.

"No, of course not."

"Do the Qunari have something against such things?" Anders asked with pinched brows. "Not that it would surprise me."

"I have no idea, and I'd rather not find out," Fenris replied.

"I know well enough that some people can have very strong reactions to such things. So I kept my mouth shut about that," Esteban remarked. "Among other things," he added with a pointed look at Anders.

"What did Sten ask you?" Anders asked with baited breath.

"He told me to explain why and how I helped rescue the slaves. I could tell he wanted to know if there was any magic involved. I convinced him otherwise-" Esteban was cut off by a second hug from the blond mage.

"Esteban, you are one clever lad!" Anders said proudly.

"Thanks," the boy replied shyly as a blush reddened his cheeks. "So... which bed is mine?"

"You can have mine," Fenris muttered as he got up and walked over to sit next to Anders. The mage scooted over a good distance away. "Of course, you might want to air out the sheets a bit, according to Anders."

"I wasn't lying. You really don't smell all that fresh," Anders griped.

"And neither do you!" Fenris shot back.

"How can either of you smell much of anything beyond the incense?" Esteban asked as he sat on the bed that the elf had vacated.

"That's why _I_ got it," Fenris muttered.

"Well... anyway... Esteban, do you have any stories to regale us with? We have plenty of time before bed."

"Um, well..."

"Preferably ones that don't involve slavery on the Osprey," Fenris muttered dryly. Anders almost reached over to smack his arm, but it was the elf's injured one and the mage remembered at the last moment.

"It's about how the Dalish first came to Llomerynn," Esteban replied.

"Even better," the city elf said sarcastically.

"Ignore him Esteban. This is a story that I would like to hear," Anders encouraged.

* * *

"And that's how the Dalish came to settle on Llomerynn!" Esteban said with a clap of his hands.

"Yes. Lovely story." Fenris remarked with zero enthusiasm.

"Yes, marvelous," Anders scowled at the elf, then smiled at the cabin boy. Esteban yawned, which caused the mage and then the elf to follow suit. They had since lit the room's two oil lamps after the sun had set quite some time ago.

"I'd tell another story, but I'm tired," Esteban said as he stretched his arms.

"No, no, that's fine. Get some sleep," Anders urged.

"Are we really sharing a bed?" Fenris asked gruffly.

"I'm not sleeping on the wooden floor. Are you?"

"No."

"Then we're sharing a bed."

"I get the inside, next to the wall," Fenris quickly announced. Anders scowled.

"So I get to be the one to roll off the bed when there's not enough space?"

"Captain's orders. My arm needs to be on the side _away_ from you," Fenris smirked and lifted his mending arm.

"I get the pillow then!" Anders growled in response and grabbed the pillow before the elf could protest.

"Fine!" Fenris hissed and moved onto his preferred half of the bed. Due to his arm, he couldn't rest on his side, but he turned his head away to look at the wall. Anders gave him a moment, then settled in next to him. He scooted away from the edge of the bed, but when his bare shoulder touched Fenris's, both men jerked at the touch and instantly moved an inch away from each other.

"Esteban, can you get the lamps?" Anders called over to the youth.

"Of course, Anders," he replied and quickly did so.

The room was suddenly cast in darkness. It didn't take long for Esteban to fall asleep, given the sound of the boy's slow, even breaths. The same could not be said of the human and the elf at the other end of the room. Both remained awake for quite some time, keenly aware of the invisible line running down the bed between them.


	12. On the Horizon

_Author's Note: Some readers may have received an alert for a larger Chapter 12 with a different name. The first portion of that older draft forms this chapter, while the rest is being reworked into Chapter 13 :)._

**Chapter 12: On the Horizon**

Fenris's consciousness languidly approached wakefulness, in no rush to leave the pleasant realm that straddled dreams and reality equally. As always, the elf could feel the reassuring weight of Hawke's arm over his bare chest, along with a leg stretched partly over his hip so that the knee was nudging Fenris's hardened cock. Even better, Fenris could feel Hawke's matching morning glory against his left thigh.

Fenris grinned slowly, only half-awake, but on instinct, he reached for Hawke's cock with his left hand, while reaching for his own with his right... or at least he tried to. The fingers of his left hand ghosted over the fabric covering Hawke's manhood, but Fenris was unable to move his right arm. Hawke stirred at the light touch to his cock and mumbled something unintelligible as he pressed closer to Fenris. The elf's eyes remained closed, but the dark brows furrowed as he tried to move his right arm again. It felt like it was stuck in the sheets. Fenris moved his left hand away from Hawke's cock and felt for his right arm, first touching the gauze that held his splints, then the neck strap...

Fenris's green eyes snapped open and he froze upon seeing Anders draped across him. The blond apostate's mouth was slightly open and his hair was loose. Fenris had a sudden flashback to when the mage had saved his life, but he pushed the image out of his mind by sheer force of will and turned away to stare at the ceiling.

"_Oh no, Esteban..._" Fenris suddenly remembered their other roommate. He turned and lifted his head just enough to look past Anders, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the other bed was empty. Light was streaming in from the portholes, though the angle and soft color indicated that it was still quite early in the day. Fenris let his head fall back to the mattress. He was acutely aware of every point of contact between his body and the mage's, especially the sizable erection pressing against his leg.

"_If he wakes up..._" Fenris shuddered at the thought. The thought of Anders waking to find them in a clinch with matching erections, no matter how unintentional, was utterly unacceptable. Holding his breath, the elf carefully took hold of the arm over his chest. He tried to move it away, but Anders mumbled again and snuggled up closer to Fenris. The sleeping apostate bucked his hips slightly, causing the elf's eyes to flash at the sensation of the hardened flesh rubbing on his thigh. He wasn't too clear on how many days he had gone without release, but his own erection was clearly adamant in finding some right at that moment.

"_Some other time, with more privacy..._" Fenris promised himself. The elf gritted his teeth and waited for Anders to settle before trying to remove the hand once more. However, this time when he touched the mage's arm, the hand on his chest happened to snag onto the strap connecting his arm sling to his neck. Fenris saw the mage's eyes begin to open and immediately clamped his own shut.

* * *

Ever since he could remember them, Anders hated dreams. When he was younger, his dreams were filled with whispers from malevolent, yet enticing voices who promised him everything at the price of his very soul. After his Harrowing, such occurrences became much rarer, though his dreams became no less painful. As a young adult, he would dream of wide open spaces where he could sleep with no ceiling save for the sky above, speckled with stars beyond counting. Yet each time he would awaken in his tiny room in the Circle tower, hemmed in not only by the drab stone walls, but the oppressive rules and capricious punishments of the Templars.

Anders naively thought upon meeting Hawke that his dreams had permanently taken a turn for the better. The dashing mage was like no other he had ever met. The brunet apostate felt no qualms over engaging in brutal, bloody melee combat of the sort that would cause most mages to piss in their trousers. He always had a joke at hand to lighten the heaviest, most dire of circumstances. Hawke even seemed completely impervious to demonic temptation, sometimes even scolding the malicious spirits like recalcitrant children before beating them soundly with a magical fury that both intimidated and attracted the blond.

Hawke was the living embodiment of everything that Anders believed in, at least at first. He was living proof that a mage outside of the Circle could be someone good, someone pure. Anders had placed the man on such a high pedestal, that when he was first rebuffed in favor of Fenris, the blond apostate could scarcely cover his hurt every time he saw the two of them in close proximity, even though it would be a few years before it became "official." Then Hawke had approached him, touched him in ways that left no question of intent, urged Anders to bring him to release... and promptly left.

Anders would dream of him staying, of Hawke leaving Fenris for him. Sometimes these dreams were so real that the blond would awaken and cry bitter tears over the stark reality that greeted him in the morning. However, every now and then, Anders was blessed with a different sort of dream. One of closeness with another being, blanketed by feelings of security and peace. No names marred such dreams, and while gender was noted, it freely shifted. At times, Anders felt a soft, womanly body nestled against his, with a lilting voice that gave tidings of hope, and at other times he would feel a hard, masculine body pressed closely to him, with a gravelly voice that whispered words of promise.

Anders was in the throes of such a dream, and luxuriated in the sensation of being so connected to someone else. The current form in his embrace was that of a man, with a smooth, yet well-muscled torso. He could feel the breath of his companion through the rise and fall of his chest. He slid his leg over the man's midsection and shivered when his knee rested upon a generous erection. Part of Anders knew he was dreaming, but another part marveled at how real everything felt. He brought his own erection close, then pressed it firmly against the man's thigh. The body next to Anders shifted slightly and he felt the fleeting touch of fingertips across his manhood. Anders nestled closer to the body and bucked his hips slightly, then felt a touch on his arm, then another. Time had little meaning in his half-dreaming state, and the touches felt quite close together. He then felt his fingers curl around something unexpected on the otherwise bare chest. Anders's hand rubbed across what even in his sleep he recognized as gauze. Gauze meant injuries. Injuries meant someone needed his attention.

Anders's awareness surged forth and his eyes opened to find Fenris next to him. The blond apostate's breathing ceased immediately. The elf's cock was under his leg. His own cock was pressed against the elf's thigh.

"_Maker be praised that I woke up first!" _Anders thought as he finally took a careful breath and slowly extricated his body away from his sleeping rival. _"He would kill me if he knew!" _The mage mused.

"_Yes. He would," _Justice agreed. Anders was in no mood to debate the spirit and rolled over so that his back was to Fenris. He closed his eyes once more, but the tactile memory of Fenris's erection was at the forefront of his thoughts. Luckily Justice remained silent at that. He tried to think of something else to take his mind off of the elf, when he heard a soft knock at the door.

"Anders? Are you awake?" Esteban called from outside.

"Yes, come in," Anders answered as he sat up in bed. Fenris stirred next to him slightly, but the elf's eyes remained closed. The blond kept his half of the bed sheet in front of his crotch as the former cabin boy walked in. The Rivaini lad held a small plate in his hand that was stacked with slices of dried fruit and various nuts. He closed the door behind him, then fixed Anders with a smirk. The expression was clear. The mage now knew that the boy had seen how close he had gotten with Fenris over the course of the night. Thankfully Esteban chose to be relatively discreet about it.

"You both looked like you needed your sleep, so I didn't want to wake you. I was given permission to bring your shares of breakfast, though," the Rivaini boy announced.

"Thanks, Esteban," Anders said with a nod, then turned and poked Fenris in the left shoulder. "Breakfast time." When the elf didn't stir, he poked again. Finally the green eyes opened. "Esteban brought us breakfast," Anders explained.

"Esteban, thank you," Fenris said as he slowly sat up and rested his back against the bed's headboard. He rubbed at his eyes, then accepted the plate that Anders passed his way. He blinked when he noticed that Anders hadn't taken anything yet.

"You're injured, so you get first choice," Anders answered the silent question.

"Thank you, Anders," Fenris smiled briefly at the mage, who returned the expression instantly.

* * *

"_Not again!" _Anders thought in horror when he woke up the following day, once again draped over the sleeping elf. The light of dawn was still dim, but he could clearly see the body next to his. The elf was sleeping on his back again, though luckily Fenris had his head turned away from the mage. Anders quickly, yet carefully removed his limbs from the elf's body and turned onto his left side. As he did so, Fenris opened his eyes and stared at the wall.

* * *

Several days had passed on the Glory before Anders had somehow trained himself to stop rolling onto Fenris in the middle of the night. Fenris had been completely cordial to him, if a bit distant at times, since the first night sleeping in the same bed. Anders found that he desperately did not want to jeopardize this change in how they interacted. Fenris still had plenty of his brooding moments, but more and more, Anders saw him smile. He even caught the elf playing with Mab once, though when Fenris realized he was being watched, the elf pretended that he was only inspecting the cat for fleas.

* * *

Fenris woke up and turned his head to Anders, who slept with his back to the elf. Part of him was relieved when the apostate had ceased to roll practically on top of him during the night. The other part of him... he didn't think too hard on. He knew he missed Hawke and any warm body next to his naturally had him reacting in ways he preferred it not to. Regardless, the troublesome contact had ended and despite the awkwardness he initially felt around the mage, he discovered that he liked to see the blond smile. It was quite a surprise, but one that he grudgingly accepted. He fell asleep once more.

"Fenris!"

"Whuh? Huh?" Fenris was rudely awakened and glared at the grinning human.

"Oh, sorry to wake you. I brought you breakfast, but before you eat, you _have_ to come see this!"

"Anders, this better be important," the elf grumbled. He only smiled slightly when Anders's back was turned. He followed the blond up to the deck to find Mab sitting on her haunches near the steps.

"Watch! She fetches!" Anders announced proudly as he threw a ball of yarn at her. It fell at Mab's feet. She didn't even swat at it. She gave it a bored look, then turned the same expression to the human and elf.

"Amazing," Fenris remarked dryly. Anders scowled.

"I swear! She brought it back to me several times earlier!" The mage assured Fenris as he approached the cat and picked up the ball of yarn again. Anders walked a few steps away, then tossed it back to Mab.

"Simply amazing," Fenris drawled at the utter lack of response from the cat.

"Andraste's ass, Mab! You're doing this on purpose!" Anders waggled his finger at her. She turned tail and disappeared down the deck. "Argh," the mage muttered then turned to see Fenris grinning. The scowl on the mage's face vanished in an instant.

"Viddathari," Sten's voice startled both men, and they turned to see him looking intently at them.

"The guards are right there! They said I could have a few more minutes on deck," Anders quickly explained.

"Be at peace. I would like you to gather the other viddathari. We are close to Meha-Shenaas, where you will depart the ship," Sten answered in his deep voice. The human and the elf quickly began to scan the horizon and soon found the line of land in the distance. They had been so used to the endless stretch of sea that they had barely paid it any attention for the past several days. They then looked back at Sten and remembered his request. Anders and Fenris quickly complied and in a few minutes, all the viddathari were on deck.

"Anders, it will be okay," Fenris whispered when he saw the nervous look on the mage's face. They had avoided talking about the _saarebas_ issue and it seemed that Anders had put it completely from his mind. However, now with the island of Seheron in the distance, the reality and necessity of keeping the apostate's secret loomed large. Anders simply nodded and kept his eyes on Sten.

"We Qunari have a tradition," the Qunari leader intoned with a sweep of his hand. "Whenever possible, we wish to preserve the dignity of all viddathari before they are presented to those who will serve as their new community," he paused to point off into the distance. "We still have a day's travel up the coast, but we will arrive at our destination by tomorrow morning. Once we land on Meha-Shenaas, you will only be seen at first by a regiment of the town guard. Close by is the harbor bath house which has been reserved for your use. You will bathe and receive new clothes. Then you will be welcomed by the community at large."

"That's... very thoughtful," Anders admitted. Fenris nodded.

"Until tomorrow," Sten added, then turned and walked away.

* * *

"Now _this _is the way to start off the day," Hawke said to himself as he chewed on a strip of dried, salted beef and watched the crew moving about the deck. He wore a light tan tunic with a wide v-cut in the front and beige breeches that were cut off just below the knees. It was still morning, but it was already warm enough that most of the working crew had already taken off their shirts. In the beginning of the journey, the visual feast of glistening skin and rippling muscles wouldn't occur until the sun was at its zenith, but now that the Cormorant had passed into subtropical waters, it happened earlier and earlier every day. A few of the sailors, including Diego, had even taken to wearing cut-off breeches. Some had such a spare inseam, that they looked more like glorified underpants. Not that Hawke was complaining.

The mage's eyes locked onto a blond elf overhead who was inspecting the crossbeam of the main sail. The elf's lithe legs were about shoulder width apart, with the buttocks and thighs tensed as he tightened a length of rope. The fabric of his cut-off breeches were stretched tight across his rump. Though the elf was shorter and had darker hair than Fenris, he was by far the easiest of the crew for Hawke to look at and fantasize about his lover.

The thought of Fenris caused a slight twinge of guilt to pinch Hawke's heart, but the mage shrugged to himself. He was only looking, as any healthy man would, and besides, he had purposely avoided asking for the sailor's name. Hawke wasn't interested in the elf in the slightest, beyond being a visual stand-in for Fenris. The brunet mage kept his eyes on the sailor as the elf hooked his legs over the crossbeam and suspended himself upside down, while checking on another set of ropes. Now the man was facing in his direction, though his full attention was on his task. He didn't notice Hawke's eyes running down the length of his body, centering on the package at his crotch, which was now brought into even greater detail by the pull of gravity.

"Fenris... we're going to play captain and sailor with our own set of those breeches when I get you back," Hawke whispered to himself before taking another bite of the stick of beef jerky. He chewed slowly as he daydreamed of Fenris working on the crossbeam above him.

"Morning Hawke," Varric said, appearing suddenly at the mage's side and following his eyes. The sudden greeting had Hawke coughing slightly on his food.

"The Champion of Kirkwall choking on a meat stick. Imagine that!" The dwarf quipped. Varric was bare-chested as well, displaying his hirsute torso fully.

"Haha," Hawke replied in monotone. "And before you say anything, I was imagining Fenris up there. The blond elf is an easy stand-in."

"No worries, Hawke. I figured," Varric replied with a nod at the elf. "You're in enough trouble with Fenris, that I doubt you're out looking for more."

"Oh, so now you believe me? That would've been nice back when you were accusing me of flirting with the bath house attendant in Llomerynn," Hawke scoffed.

"But the splash battle was so much fun!" Varric quipped with a quick jab to the mage's ribs. Hawke was about to retaliate, but he saw Isabela approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, don't mind me!" Isabela remarked. "Just start tickling each other and wrestling around the way you two always do."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you." Hawke gave the captain wink.

"Don't flatter yourself. I have a whole crew of strapping lads to watch over," Isabela reminded him.

"They wear far too much for this weather!" Hawke waggled his brows.

"I know that you would prefer that my men sail without any clothes at all, but that isn't really an option," Isabela replied with a smirk.

"A man can dream," Hawke said with a prolonged sigh.

"And what about _my_ dreams?" Varric muttered. "Why didn't you hire any female sailors?"

"Oh Varric, you know her. Less competition for the attention of all the Cormorant's men," Hawke only half-joked.

"Except some of these men have eyes only for each other. Furthermore, fit lasses are just as welcome on my ship," Isabela paused for emphasis, "_and_ my bed."

"So why the lack of some fine specimens that _I_ can ogle, then?" Varric scowled as he looked out over the ship again, braving the sight of all the sweaty male bodies in scant clothing.

"Because women who sail tend to be a lot smarter and drive harder bargains than the men. Promises of payment only go so far, and I didn't have much to pay upfront after repairs and outfitting of the ship."

"Promises of payment? I gave you plenty of gold to secure the best crew you could muster!" Hawke exclaimed with a frustrated huff.

"And I did! But Castillon didn't treat the Cormorant very well over the years. I had to spend far more than I had anticipated, and with the short amount of time, I had to pay double," Isabela shook her head, "no even _triple_, for certain services!"

"Such as?" Hawke crossed his arms and lifted a brow. Isabela scowled, then took a deep breath and launched into a more detailed explanation.

"Rigging upgrades, sail repair, pitch caulking, keel stabilization, rudder readjustment, bobstay replacement, lastage renovation, jack-block pulley wheel restoration, ballistae inspection, anchor chain extension, barnacle removal-"

"I don't know half of what those are, but barnacle removal?" Hawke cut in. "Because there were still barnacles on the hull when we left Kirkwall," he added with a pointed look at the pirate captain.

"There are a lot less now," Isabela huffed after catching her breath. "Besides, we didn't have time to drydock the ship to get the job completely done. Still, less barnacles means faster sailing, so your money was well-spent!"

"Apparently," Hawke muttered, hardly convinced.

"Well, I need to go check on some... things, so I'll leave you two watching my men hard at work!" Isabela exclaimed with a smile that was a bit too bright, then scurried off before Hawke could say anything more to her.

"I bet you that she blew some of the money away on gambling," Varric mused with a sidelong glance at Hawke.

"If you mean half of the total by _some_, then yes, undoubtedly," Hawke answered with a nod. He then shrugged and sighed. "I can't really complain, though, all things considered. She did get the crew and ship ready in a single day, and we haven't had any problems so far. Plus, the eye candy is nice."

"Speak for yourself," Varric groused. Hawke returned to watching the crew, while the dwarf set his eyes on the horizon. Varric blinked for a moment, then squinted his eyes.

"See something?" Hawke asked once he noticed the intense look on his friend's face.

"Not sure," he murmured before turning and searching through the crew on deck. "Hey Diego!" The dwarf shouted with hands cupped on each side of his mouth. The Rivaini first mate of the Cormorant was talking to two fair-skinned Ferelden crew members near the mizzen mast, but turned at the sound of his name. He excused himself from the other sailors and approached the dwarf and the mage.

"Morning Varric, Hawke," he said once he was within earshot. The pair greeted him in kind. "What can I do for you?"

"I think there might be a ship on the horizon," Varric explained and pointed westward. Diego chewed on the inside of his cheek as he searched the horizon. Finally his eyes stopped and focused on a faraway dot.

"For people accustomed to living underground, you've got quite a pair of eyes, dwarf," the first mate remarked. "I'll take a closer look from the crow's nest," he added and patted the spyglass at his side. It was Isabela's, but he had taken to wearing it since he used it far more often. He turned from Varric and Hawke and quickly approached the main mast. By only grasping every second hand hold, he clambered up to the observation point with impressive speed.

The Cormorant had passed Kont-Aar the previous day without incident. Before passing southwest into Tevinter-controlled waters, two Qunari vessels had been spotted, but both were headed northeast, undoubtedly for Par Vollen. Isabela had kept the Cormorant on a direct course for Minrathous, with a favorable wind at their back for most of the way, including now. Hawke hoped their luck would continue as he watched Diego peering through the gold-plated telescope.

"It isn't one, but _two _ships! Both headed our way, tacking against the wind," Diego called down. Hawke and Varric shared a nervous look. "They're flying the flags of Tevinter!" The sailor shouted a moment later.

"Well, that's a relief," Hawke exhaled his pent-up breath, but Varric's face still held a note of concern.

"We should still be cautious. I wouldn't be surprised if they're a bit on edge."

"Of course. Though, with any luck we'll pass by two boatloads of half-naked Tevinter sailors that we can both drool over!"

"Ugh," Varric elbowed a chuckling Hawke away from him. "I'm going back to our room to polish Bianca. I need some female companionship right now."

"Suit yourself." Hawke grinned and shared a wave with his friend before the dwarf disappeared below deck. He finished eating his breakfast, then turned back to look at Diego above him. "Can you tell if they're warships or trading vessels?" Hawke called out.

"I can't tell at this distance, but we'll know soon enough," Diego answered. The Rivaini sailor looked away from Hawke toward the elf who was still busily working on the crossbeam ropes below him.

"Tindal!" Diego yelled. Hawke frowned slightly. It was easier to imagine Fenris in his stead when the sailor's name was unknown.

"Ser!" The elf replied and looked up from his handiwork.

"Take my place up here and keep an eye on the two ships to the west," Diego instructed the sailor as he descended the main mast. He met Tindal at the middle of the mast's length and passed over Isabela's spyglass. The elf nodded to the first mate, then quickly climbed up to the crow's nest to keep vigil. Diego's face was lined with worry once he set foot back on the deck.

"Everything alright?" Hawke asked him.

"Oh, yes!" Diego said quickly. "I just needed a bit of a breather. I've been on deck since before sunrise," he smiled, the look of worry disappearing. He walked past Hawke and headed for the officer's quarters at the stern of the ship.

The Champion of Kirkwall watched him go, then rubbed his stomach at the sudden grumbling sound. The beef jerky hadn't been as filling as he had hoped, so he headed toward the ship's larder at the opposite end of the ship for something else to eat. He waved at a few of the familiar sailors, then made his way below deck.

"Oh, hello Merrill," Hawke said as he opened the door and caught sight of the Dalish elf staring at several preserved strips of beef. The jerky wasn't bad, but Hawke was now in the mood for something completely different. His eyes widened at the sight of the salted wheat wafers. He wasn't sure where Isabela had found them, but he loved the taste of the thin, round crisps, which were flavored with dried rosemary. Once he took a few in hand, he turned back to Merrill, who was still staring wide-eyed at the jerky. She looked like she almost wanted to cry.

"Merrill? What's wrong?" Hawke asked, coming up to stand next to her. He looked at the strips of dried meat, but didn't see anything amiss.

"Isabela said it was Halla meat," Merrill whispered.

"Oh Merrill! She was just joking!"

"I know!" Merrill protested. "But now that the thought is in my head, I can't stop thinking about it," the elf moaned and turned away from the meat.

"Well then, let's just get these out of sight." Hawke rolled the strips back into the spread cloth and placed them into the clay jar that Merrill had left open on the table. "And share some salted rosemary wafers with me." He wrapped one arm around Merrill's shoulder and handed her a wheat cracker. "I know it's dry, like most of the food on the ship, but it isn't bad."

"I should've dried the rose," Merrill whispered between small bites of the wafer.

"Sorry, what was that?" Hawke looked at her with his head slightly tilted.

"The rose Carver gave me. I should have dried it out. I've dried flowers before. It's easy with sand and salt. And we have plenty of both on the ship," Merrill informed him. "I tried to keep the rose fresh with magic, but it became overrun with mold. I had to discard it," she added glumly.

"Oh." Hawke remarked, before quickly adding, "sorry." Both were silent as they tucked into their dry breakfast.

"Do you have any mementos of his?" Merrill asked all of a sudden. "Something you might share with me? I'd like to have something to remember him by while we're away from Kirkwall."

"Um... well, I'm not sure. Carver and I have never been very sentimental about each other," Hawke explained. Merrill blinked her sad eyes at him. "But... I'm sure I can find something of his that found its way into my possession," the mage said, unable to resist the pleading in those eyes.

"Thank you, Hawke!" Merrill perked up immediately.

"Don't thank me just yet. Let's go to my quarters and look for something. But first, let's get some water from the scuttlebutt. All this dry food is making me thirsty!" Hawke said, partly because he really was thirsty, but mostly because he wanted to buy some time to think of something he could give to Merrill that would suffice as a memento of his brother's.

The human and the elf had just stepped back on to the deck when a harsh cry came from the crow's nest that caused their blood to freeze despite the warm, subtropical air.

"Dragon!" Tindal screamed at the top of his lungs. "There's a dragon incoming!"


	13. A Warm Welcome

**Chapter 13: A Warm Welcome**

"There's a dragon incoming!" Tindal yelled in fright as he looked down to the deck while pointing to the west. "Mitchum!" Tindal shouted at one of the Fereldan sailors. "Get the captain!"

"Tindal, you better not be joking!" Mitchum shouted back.

"Damnit, Mitchum! Get the captain!" Tindal cried out, the terror evident in his shaking voice.

"What is a dragon doing this far out at sea?" Merrill gasped, her face becoming sallow from fear.

"I have no idea, but if that dragon expected easy prey, it will be sorely mistaken!" Hawke vowed. "Let's get our staves!" He added, though Merrill was already a step ahead of him as the pair raced across the deck to their quarters. Several other sailors had taken up the cry, just as Varric appeared on deck, Bianca in one hand and the mages' staves in the other.

"I heard someone say 'dragon.' Thought you might need these!" He called out as he tossed the weapons their way. Both expertly caught their staves in hand, then turned to see the slowly growing speck in the sky heading toward them.

"All hands on deck, all hands on deck!" Isabela cried out as she stepped onto the deck with Diego at her side before Mitchum even had a chance to descend the steps to her quarters. "Tindal, get down from there! Diego and Mitchum, open the armory and get the crossbows! All men at the stern, get the ballistae armed and ready! Men at the bow, start pulling the sails!" The crew burst into action as Isabela rushed over to Hawke.

"Not exactly what I was expecting on the high seas," Hawke quipped.

"Nor I," Isabela said with a tone that was hardly reassuring.

"We've fought and killed dragons before." Merrill stood up tall as the initial shock wore off, replaced by the grim determination she always felt just prior to battle.

"Yes, but not a ship where everything around us is flammable," Isabela reminded her. Merrill's expression fell immediately.

"Merrill and I can put the fire out," Hawke replied, though his own voice was shaking slightly. The prospect of a watery grave due to fire loomed large in his mind.

Tindal dropped the final few feet from the mast, then ran to Isabela and handed the spyglass over to her. The captain placed it up to her eye and peered through it. She turned it a bit to focus, then furrowed her brows.

"The dragon has a rider," she gasped.

"A rider?" Varric and Hawke blurted out in unison.

"Yes, a rider," Isabela murmured.

"Could it be... Asha'bellanar ?" Merrill whispered.

"The Witch of the Wilds?" Hawke glanced at Merrill. "As good a guess as any, but let's be prepared for the worst even as we hope for the best," the mage added with a tone far more serious than usual.

Isabela lowered the spyglass, then turned to find Tindal in the milling crowd on deck. "Tindal! Did the dragon appear in the same direction as the ships?"

"Aye captain! It appeared almost exactly above them."

"Damnit," Isabela muttered.

"You think it's from one of the ships, don't you?" Hawke asked, studying her face. Isabela nodded. "That's a _good_ thing right?" The apostate pressed.

"Um... well..." Isabela hemmed and hawed.

"Do Tevinter ships routinely carry dragons onboard?" Varric asked, though his gaze was squarely on Bianca as he checked the crossbow over.

"Only the biggest warships... though until now, I thought it was just a silly, unsubstantiated rumor," she answered, as Diego passed by, handing out crossbows, while Mitchum supplied quivers to anyone with the ranged weapons, including Varric.

"No thanks," the dwarf politely declined the sailor's quiver and patted his own. "Bianca is very particular about her ammunition," he added. Mitchum gave him a confused look, then continued on his way, trailing behind the first mate.

"Men! Do not shoot until ordered to! Anyone who dares will walk the plank!" Isabela threatened loudly before looking back into the sky. The dragon was clearly visible now, its azure scales glittering in the morning light and its massive wings looming larger and larger by the second. There was a great cry of consternation as the great beast's shadow crossed the ship, but it remained high above and well outside of crossbow range, even for Bianca. The dragon then banked sharply, tilting its great wings almost perpendicular to the sea and passed over them yet again. The angle during the turn allowed them to see a blue-garbed rider for a moment, but the distance prevented much else from being discerned before the dragon's body evened out again.

"Ser! The angle is too high! We won't able to use the ballistae!" A sailor behind the nearest ballista shouted.

"These seas are under the province of the grand Tevinter Imperium!" A magically amplified male voice boomed from above. Hawke and his companions stared up in surprise and listened nervously as the voice continued. "We will brook no collusion with the evil Qunari, who are enemies of all humanity!"

"How amazing..." Merrill whispered as she watched the dragon circling above. "The dragon is tame!"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Hawke remarked. "Under magical control and bent to a magister's will, sure. But truely tame? I highly doubt that," he added, his eyes tracking the beast above.

"As part of our ongoing defense of all of Thedas, we will conduct a search of your ship. You will continue on your present course and rendezvous with the two patrol ships to the west. Failure to comply will result in death!" The dragon's rider decreed as the great beast's shadow passed overhead one last time before heading whence it came.

"Well, the Imperium doesn't mess around," Varric muttered as he watched the dragon's departure.

"Men, unfurl the sails. Continue on course per the Tevinter patrol's instructions, but stay onguard!" Isabela ordered. "If you'll excuse me," she said to her friends over her shoulder, "I need to talk to my first mate."

"Of course," Hawke replied, then looked at Varric and Merrill. "I've got a _bad _feeling about this."

"Can you start joking right about now? This serious thing you're doing is freaking me out," Varric said while he fussed over Bianca again.

"Um..." Hawke scratched his neatly trimmed beard and pondered for a moment, then smiled. "Okay! A dwarf, a human, and an elf walk into a bar-"

"This doesn't sound funny," Varric and Merrill said at the exact same time.

"Work with me people!"

* * *

Anders followed the guards onto the deck of the Ataash. Under his arm he held a small cage, inside which Mab was resting. He had been worried that she might make a fuss, but she had been remarkably obedient when landfall was imminent. She came to Anders at night immediately after she had been called and allowed herself to be placed in the cage that morning on the first try.

Anders looked away from his cat and squinted at the glare from the white marble that dominated the architecture of Meha-Shenaas. The town was positively gleaming in the morning light. The bright walls and domes of the buildings were a striking contrast with the dense green of the tropical forest further inland. Anders pursed his lips as he took in the sights. The sweeping arches and mosaic tiles looked quite familiar. He turned to Fenris, who was leaning at the railing next to him, along with the other viddathari.

"It looks like the drawings that I've seen of Tevinter."

"Because this was once a Tevinter town. The whole island belonged to the Imperium at one time," Fenris explained.

"Right, of course," Anders chided himself for forgetting that fact, but his head then tilted slightly. "I suppose I assumed the Qunari would have torn all this down and rebuilt things according to their own preferences," Anders mused.

"A waste of time and resources. The Qunari have a preference for practicality," Fenris remarked. Anders turned back to the town as the Ataash veered slightly to the starboard side. The docks seemed to be split in two. The main harbor was bustling with activity, with a significant number of Qunari elves among the horned giants. However, the portion of the docks their ship coasted toward was completely empty save for a regiment of soldiers.

"What are the Qunari... I mean the original ones... called? What is their race actually known as?" Anders wondered aloud.

"Kossith, though you will rarely hear that term. They are generally known by their acceptance or denial of the Qun," Fenris answered.

"You know a lot about them," Anders remarked, turning to the elf. Fenris shrugged.

"It is a worthwhile endeavor to study your enemy," the elf answered.

"Has it been worthwhile studying me?" Anders asked with a chuckle before he realized he had indeed said that out loud. He tried to cover his embarrassment with a smile. Fenris pulled his head back slightly in surprise at the question, his large green eyes searching dark amber.

"I... don't consider you an enemy. Not any longer," Fenris replied evasively before lowering his eyes to the side. Both men turned from each other before either could see the other blush. They remained silent until Anders began making a deliberate show of sniffing the air loudly.

"What _is_ that smell?" Anders whispered.

"If this is an insult directed at me-" Fenris began.

"No, really! It's a sweet aroma..." Anders voice trailed off as he tried to recall a distant memory.

"Ah, coconuts," Fenris replied after a moment.

"Yes! That's it! I had coconut milk once or twice when I was in Amaranthine. Or at least I think that's what it was called. It looked like milk, but tasted quite different. Sweet, velvety, it was a rare, memorable treat!"

"It's a tropical plant, you'll find it quite common here."

"Lovely," Anders grinned, then took a deep breath of the coconut-scented air of Meha-Shenaas.

Before long, the ship had been moored and the viddathari were escorted down the gangplank to meet the assembled town guard. As with the Ataash's troops, the guard regiment had several elves and a few humans within the ranks. The leader of the town guard stepped forward.

"Shanedan, Sten."

"Shanedan, Sten."

"That _has_ to be confusing," Anders whispered to Fenris as he watched the familiar Sten of the Ataash greeting the Sten of Meha-Shenaas. The shipbound soldier handed a large scroll to his counterpart with a nod. The Sten of the town was dressed almost identically, though he was slightly taller and held a massive two-handed warhammer rather than a sword. Though, from the sizable muscles that covered his frame, Anders guessed the Qunari could wield the warhammer just fine with one hand if wanted to. The new Sten also had a sizable scar that ran diagonally across his face. The giant turned to look at the viddathari and paused to stare at Fenris. The golden eyes narrowed, then shifted away.

"I bid you farewell, viddathari. I have detailed your exploits in the pursuit of your freedom, as well as your exemplary behavior on the Ataash," Sten announced. He then saluted the newest denizens of Meha-Shenaas and shouted, "anaan esaam Qun!"

"Anaan esaam Qun!" Fenris and Lanreth immediately answered in kind, prompting everyone else to do so, as well, including Esteban, who had been so quiet at Anders's side that the mage had not even noticed him. Sten of the Ataash actually smiled at the joint response, then led his men back to the ship.

"Good luck, viddathari!" Vasravaan appeared at the railing of his ship and waved with a grin. "We have pressing matters to address in the west, otherwise we would have stayed for a bit!" The captain added with a wistful look at the town. At his side was the healer who lifted his hand in farewell. Anders and Fenris waved back, both men feeling a great deal of warmth toward the two Qunari who had treated them far better than either had expected.

"I wish I had learned the healer's name," Anders said to Fenris.

"I suspect that it was 'Healer' in the language of the Qun," the elf replied with a grin.

"And what do you think our names will be here?" Anders smirked.

"Oh, yours will be 'cat-crazed-thing,' no doubt," Fenris said dryly as he glanced at Mab.

"And yours will be 'rarely-smiles-thing,'" Anders retorted.

"I smile enough." Fenris brooded, though the corners of his mouth threatened to form a smile at any moment. Anders shook his head and chuckled.

"Come, viddathari!" Sten of Meha-Shenaas bellowed in a stern voice. Both Anders and Fenris ceased their mirthful conversation immediately and began to march along the pier toward the bath house Sten of the Ataash had mentioned earlier. It was a short, direct walk. As they neared the building, the two separate doors of the bath house opened simultaneously.

"Welcome viddathari," several attendants announced as they filed forth.

"Female Qunari!" Anders whispered with wide eyes as he stared at the three tall, horned women who approached the elven women of their contingent. While shorter than the men of their race, they still stood a good bit taller than any of the viddathari. All three wore a simple, light-green wrap skirt with matching swaths of cloth that covered ample bosoms. The one in the lead motioned to Bronwyn and the other elf women. "Females, come with us." Anders watched them go through the door to the right, then turned back just as a large male attendant beckoned to the men. The male attendants wore even less than the women, with wide green loincloths their only clothing.

"Males with us," he called, then looked over to the captain of the town guard. "Thank you, Sten. We will have them ready soon," the attendant added before ushering Anders, Fenris, and the rest of the male viddathari through the door to the left.

* * *

"Lower your weapons and prepare to be boarded!" The now familiar voice commanded from the ship just portside of Isabela's galleon. The other ship was on the Cormarant's starboard side, boxing her in. The patrol ships were both larger than the trade vessel, with twice as many ballistae each. Two rows of masked soldiers watched from the railings of the ships, with the large blue dragon towering above the men of the nearest ship. The massive reptile watched the proceedings hungrily.

"Hawke, make my voice big like his," Isabela asked, though she kept her eyes on the portside ship. The mage nodded and waved his hands in the air, before placing a glowing red hand to her throat. She cleared her throat, the volume of which startled her and everyone in her immediate vicinity.

"Our weapons are lowered, but you will understand if we still keep them in hand! We are peaceful travelers who only wish to see the wonders of the Imperium and do a little trading on the side!" Isabela announced, though her voice boomed with enough force to shake the wood underfoot.

"Ah! It speaks highly of you to have mages at your side!" The voice replied at a similar volume. Three blue-robed figures appeared at the side of the Tevinter ship, their faces hidden by hoods. They traced sigils in the air, creating a loud hum. There was a flash of light as a shimmering span burst into life and crossed the distance between the two ships. There was a murmur of surprise, but the Cormorant's sailors had already given a wide berth to the gangway facing the portside Tevinter vessel.

Two dozen masked Tevinter soldiers marched across the magical bridge. Their boots made no sound on the span of light, but the heavy cadence was heard as soon as they stepped onto the Cormorant. They promptly split their ranks in half as they filed onto the deck, revealing another man dressed in blue. The basic hue of the robe was the only similarity between his clothing and that of the other three Tevinter mages. His ensemble was far more ornate, with bright silver designs embroidered all throughout the fabric. The accents on the robe matched the silver-blue staff in his hand left hand, which was capped with the largest sapphire Hawke had ever seen. Instead of a hood, the man's robe held a collar that stretched past his head and framed a cold, haughty visage. He waved a hand over his throat, prompting Hawke to do the same with Isabela.

"Captain Isabela of the Cormorant," she greeted the man at a normal volume, but did not step forward to extend her hand. The man looked at her with cold indifference, but responded politely all the same.

"Magister Tacitus of the Dragon's Maw. Thank you for complying with the wishes of the Imperium. Provided our inspection turns up nothing out of the ordinary, we will depart and let you continue on your way."

"Our pleasure!" Isabela bowed with a flourish.

"You flew on a dragon!" Merrill blurted out, unable to contain her awe. The magister looked her way but didn't deign to turn his head fully.

"I did not," the magister corrected her.

"But your voice-"

"Magically projected by a simple remote vocalization spell," Tacitus elaborated in a clipped tone.

"That's amazing!" Merrill continued.

"Hardly. Any mage-child of the Imperium could cast it," the magister said with a weary look at the Dalish elf.

"Merrill, we should just let the man do his job," Hawke whispered to the elf, then turned to the magister with a smile. "It's her first time this far north," he said in a friendly, conspiratorial whisper that managed to perk the corners of the magister's lips, though the man did not truly smile.

"We shall begin," Tacitus intoned as he walked past Isabela, flanked by several soldies. He soon descended below the deck at the stern of the ship, while a quintet of his men did the same at the bow. Just under half of the soldiers remained on deck, keeping a silent vigil. Isabela's sailors stared nervously at the armored, masked men as time passed, presenting quite a visual contrast. Bare-chested men in light-colored breeches of increasingly short length opposite fully clothed soldiers in dark armor.

A bead of sweat trickled down Hawke's forehead and dripped onto his upper lip. He licked at the salty droplet, then scratched his head as he looked the Tevinter soldiers over.

"You have to be dying in that armor! It's hot enough to bake a nug on the deck floor!" Hawke exclaimed. The masked soldiers just stared ahead impassively.

"Maybe their armor keeps them cool magically," Merrill mused as she stepped forward with a hand extended to touch the nearest soldier.

"Whoah there, Daisy!" Varric quickly grabbed the elf by the arm and pulled her to his side.

"Sorry," she said with a blush and an apologetic glance at the Tevinter soldier close to her. It was difficult to tell where his gaze was focused due to the shadow of the mask over his eyes, but he remained silent and still.

"This might take a while. How about a song, Varric?" Hawke rubbed at a knot in his left shoulder.

"Very funny, Hawke," the dwarf muttered.

"I'm not joking!"

"I've dealt with tough crowds before, but this is pushing it. No thanks."

"So... I suppose we'll all just play the staring game..." Hawke's voice trailed off as he tried to think of something to occupy his thoughts. Naturally his mind shifted to his lover. He recalled the first time he had met the white-haired, brooding elf. Hawke had been angry at the bait and switch, but he couldn't stay that way for long. It had not been love at first sight, but it was definitely lust... and Hawke realized that he really needed to think of something else if he wanted to avoid sporting an erection in his already tight breeches. His mind drifted to the various misadventures during his year-long tenure with Athenril and her smuggling ring. Hawke wasn't sure how long it had been when his private musings were brought to an abrupt halt.

"Isabela of the Cormorant," Magister called out in a cold voice as he stepped back onto the deck with his soldiers, his left hand on his sapphire-capped staff and his right held behind his back.

"Yes, magister?" Isabela asked as she turned to the man.

"You and your crew are under arrest," he announced impassively, his words punctuated by the drawing of swords from all of his men. There were nervous murmurs from the crew of the Cormorant, but they kept their weapons down and watched their captain.

"What?" Isabela looked at him in confusion. "On what charge?"

"Possession of a highly illegal substance." Magister Tacitus brought his hand from behind his back. With just his thumb and index finger, he held aloft a small glass vial filled with a lime-green liquid. "We found quite a large shipment of this in a hidden cache."

"Isabela..." Hawke muttered as his eyes widened.

"Now we know where your money went," Varric said to the Fereldan mage with a sigh.

"Don't worry Hawke! It's just Antivan fly!" Isabela assured him with a raised palm before turning to back to the magister. "Surely we can make a deal here! Half of the product now, plus a portion of the sales from my half."

"Isabela..." Hawke repeated, his right hand now bunched his hair from frustration.

"This is not _just _Antivan fly! That is one component, yes. But it is also saturated with _saar-qamek,_ the poisonous gas used by the Qunari!" The magister announced with a sneer. Isabela responded with the two most appropriate words for the occasion.

"Oh shit."

* * *

Anders turned the faucet as instructed earlier by the attendant, then marveled as hot water streamed into the large marble tub. He knew the bath houses in Tevinter had water that would flow similarly on demand, but it was powered by magic. He could feel no such power at work here. The apostate heard Fenris doing the same behind him at the other tub in the room. Keeping his back turned, he quickly shucked off his clothing and slipped into the warm water.

"Maker's breath... that's nice!" Anders moaned with delight. He had never gone without a bath for such a long stretch. He reached over to the bar of soap. He gave it a sniff. "Coconut soap," he murmured with a smile before lathering under his arms with a vengeance. He heard Fenris grunt in annoyance, and looked over to see the elf sitting in the other tub, trying to work up a lather from his bar of soap in one hand while awkwardly positioning his armsling over the edge and away from the water. Anders had almost offered to help, but thought better of it. There was a sudden knock on the door.

"Come in," both men answered. The attendant who had first greeted them entered, with a bright orange sponge in hand.

"Shanedan, viddathari," the attendent said to both and nodded at their response. He then turned to the elf. "I have come to help you bathe," he announced to Fenris. The elf stared at him as a slight blush colored his cheeks.

"I'm fine, thanks," Fenris answered tersely.

"You will need help keeping your right arm dry, as well as cleaning under your left," the Qunari asserted as he stepped up behind the elf. Fenris turned in the tub to look at the attendant, but then spun right back around when he realized his face was right at the level of the Qunari's crotch.

"He has a point. If we share a bed again, I'd prefer it if _both_ of your armpits smelled like coconuts," Anders quipped.

"You share a bed?" The Qunari asked with a raised brow.

"We had to," Anders quickly answered. "There wasn't enough room for all of us viddathari to have our own bed."

"Ah," the attendant said simply as he stood behind the seated elf.

"Yes, go ahead and bathe me. Have at it!" Fenris added, eager to steer the attendant's attention away from the topic. The Qunari nodded and lathered up his sponge. He then gingerly held up the elf's recovering arm, and began to wash his underarm.

"Why do you blush so much, viddathari?" The attendant chided Fenris, which caused the elf to grow even more scarlet in the face. "I am not a female. What is there to be embarrassed about in my presence?"

"Size, maybe?" Anders quipped. Fenris's eyes shot daggers his way, but Anders just hummed and sank below the water of his tub, blowing bubbles on the way down. He surfaced a moment later and went back to scrubbing himself with a vigor that rivaled Varric polishing Bianca. Before long, he was done and stepped out of the tub, once again with his back to Fenris. He quickly dried himself off, then wrapped a towel around his waist. Anders heard Fenris getting out of the other tub soon after.

"Once you have dressed, return outside and wait for Sten's instructions," the attendant said as he left the room.

"That wasn't very funny," Fenris growled.

"What? My little joke about 'little Fenris'?" Anders asked with a grin. He sensed the elf approach and turned to find Fenris, also with only a towel around his waist, glaring at him mere inches away.

"That's an old joke of poor taste that human men delight in using about male elves. _Yes_, our cocks tend to be smaller on average than humans, but that's because your people tend to be larger overall. It doesn't make us any less men," Fenris snarled.

"Fenris, wait... you've got it all wrong, I didn't mean-"

"I happen to be larger than the average elf, in all aspects, but that's neither here nor there. I expected better of you than to mock my race!" Fenris interrupted him angrily, his green eyes blazing under the dark brows and wet, white hair.

"Sweet Andraste, Fenris! That wasn't any sort of racial jab! Everyone is tiny, _in all aspects_, compared to our horned hosts!" Anders explained with his palms raised cautiously between them. "_Besides, from the morning salute I felt on several occasions, I knew you weren't lacking in that regard_," he added silently. Fenris's expression hardened for a second, causing the mage to fear that he had actually said that aloud, but then the elf grunted in exasperation and backed away.

"I'm sorry, Anders. My temper still gets the best of me, especially when it comes to you. Old habits die hard," Fenris remarked with a slight pout.

"Apology accepted," Anders said, glancing at Fenris's lips, noticing how full they were from the elf's apologetic expression. "Yes, well... let's not keep Sten waiting," Anders quickly added and turned away from Fenris to put on his new clothes. The bundle consisted of four pairs of underpants and three pairs of breeches, all off-white and made of cotton. Anders pulled on a pair of the underpants, followed by matching breeches. A frustrated grunt got his attention and he turned around to see Fenris struggling with the drawstring of his own breeches. The mage almost offered to help, but then reconsidered. He didn't want his hands anywhere near the spot his mind was recently focused on. He tied his hair back, then bundled the remaining clothes under one arm and left the room. Fenris followed a moment later, though his breeches hung quite low on his slim hips. Anders turned and stopped in the hall to allow Fenris to catch up. The blond forced himself to keep his eyes well above the elf's waistline, despite the lyrium brands on the tawny skin that seemed to beckon downward. Once even with Anders, the pair continued into the vestibule where another attendant handed the blond the cage with Mab. With cat and clothes in hand, Anders exited the building with Fenris at his side.

"Ah, finally the last of the viddathari have arrived," Sten remarked coldly, once again giving Fenris an odd look before turning from him and signaling to his men. The line of soldiers grouped up into four rows, two of which positioned themselves in front of the viddathari, while the other two remained behind the new converts. The front row consisted of the tallest Qunari, blocking much of the sight ahead. As soon as their escort began to move, the viddathari moved along with them, though utterly out of synch with the coordinated steps of the soldiers. They were led away from the bath house toward the larger, far busier part of the docks. Anders was at the left edge of the group and leaned his head to the side to look past their escort.

A large crowd had gathered up ahead, from which a small group of three men stepped forward, two elves and one human. One of the elves was a short, thin blond, while the other was almost as a tall as a human and had dark brown hair. The human was clearly a Rivaini, with jet-black hair and swarthy skin. The three approached slowly, since the blond elf had an odd gait and walked with the aid of a cane. He looked too young to need such a thing, but then Anders noticed the elf's wooden peg leg from the sound it made as the elf walked. A second glance revealed the same elf only had one arm.

"Viddathari, meet your _kenathari_, your representatives and mentors who will aid the Tamassran in your transition into society!" Sten intoned as he signaled the soldiers to step aside.

"Welcome to Meha-Shenaas!" The three men called out as the viddathari came into view. Anders heard a sharp gasp to his right. He turned to see Fenris completely still, with a look of total disbelief on his face. Anders then noticed the same look mirrored on the faces of the two elf mentors. The human kenathari looked at his elven counterparts with a look of confusion, when suddenly, one of the elves released a blood curdling cry. The dark-haired, taller elf rushed forward and slammed his fist into Fenris's face. There were great cries of surprise and dismay from all corners of the dock. Fenris had barely hit the ground when the other elf was already upon him, swinging his fists in a rage. Lanreth and the other elven viddathari were frozen in shock at the sudden eruption of violence, but Anders burst into action.

Mab yowled in surprise as her cage was dropped. Anders rushed at the man, only to get punched hard enough in the mouth to knock him to the ground. The apostate's head swam as he struggled to his feet, vaguely aware of the sudden rush of feet all around him. When his head finally cleared, he looked up to find Lanreth bracing Fenris in a half-seated position, while Tieral stood protectively in front of them both. Fenris's left eye was rapidly swelling shut and he was bleeding profusely from the nose and mouth. The dark-haired elf was writhing in fury in the grip of two Qunari soldiers, his eyes wild and fierce.

"Anders!" Esteban was kneeling beside him and had a hand on the mage's shoulder.

"I'm fine," Anders replied, his concern solely for Fenris, even as the blond mage wiped blood away from his own mouth.

"Traitor! Traitor!" The dark-haired elf screamed and then burst into tears and gnashed his teeth in rage and despair.

"What is the meaning of this, Enric?" The Rivaini kenathari shouted, then turned to the one-armed elf, who was now as pale as ghost. "Braith? You know him, as well?"

"Oh yes, Adrian... this _basra vashedan_ is well known to Enric and Braith," Sten's eyes flashed with a savage look of satisfaction as he observed Fenris's bloody face.

"Sten! Whoever, whatever he was before, he is now viddathari! How can you call him 'foreign trash'?" Adrian, the Rivaini mentor demanded angrily.

"Because that is what he is!" Enric cried out, still struggling in the grasp of the two soldiers. "Because of him, Braith and I lost everyone who we had come to call family!"

"What are you talking about? _We_ are your family, Enric!" Adrian protested, completely confused by his fellow kenathari's outburst. A sharp look of remorse crossed the dark-haired elf's tear-streaked face.

"Sten and the Tamassran kept our secret, but I will not stand idly by and watch history repeat itself," Enric promised with a heavy breath. "Before the Tamassran brought Braith and I onto the path of enlightenment, we were Fog Warriors..."


	14. Free

_AN: Sorry for the long delay, but I have a good reason! This chapter is over 25,000 words and is about five times the length of the average SoS post. It took a while to finish. The cloud forest featured in this installment has real life counterparts, one of which I had the pleasure of experiencing during a trip to Costa Rica. It was quite a surprise to wear sweaters and jackets in a tropical forest :). For this story, instead of Central American wildlife, I used fauna of the Old World, where cloud forests are also found. _

_This is also the first time I'm placing a chapter-specific warning on my work. **WARNING**: this chapter contains some graphic violence against people and animals. I happen to be a vegetarian, but hunting is a vital, necessary part of the Fog Warrior way of life, so I've included it._

_In other news, I received two wonderful surprises in the form of some artwork from SoS readers! First up is a drawing by Solestrat depicting the scene in Chapter 2 when Anders makes his move on Hawke!_

_h t t p : / / i m g 8 2 1 . i m a g e s h a c k . u s / i / 7 2 0 1 5 6 4 9 . j p g/_

_Second is a drawing by Kyogou from Chapter 10 when Anders rescues Fenris during the Qunari attack on the Osprey!_

_h t t p : / / k y o g o u . d e v i a n t a r t . c o m / a r t / A n d e r s x F e n r i s - S a v i o r - 2 0 7 6 9 8 5 4 1_

_(FFN blocks urls, so you'll need to remove the extra spaces I included in each)_

_Awesome work from amazing artists! Thank you both so much! Oh and special thanks to Kyogou for pointing out the similarity between the names Emric and Emeric. I totally forgot about that templar! Anyhoo, I've retconned Emric to Enric. Not too different, but hopefully different enough to avoid the association with the canon character :)._

**Chapter 14: Free**

"You're awake!" Anders exclaimed in relief, though Fenris had barely opened his eyes... or rather eye. The elf furrowed his brows when he noticed that he could only open his right eye comfortably. The left was swollen and puffy, with splotches of dark-blue and maroon running across the entire area from brow to cheek.

"Hello," Fenris tried to say, but it came out more like a two-syllable grunt.

"I'll be right back," Anders mentioned before quickly leaving the room. Fenris turned his head to watch him go, but then winced at the pain the simple motioned caused. He felt a dull, constant ache throughout his entire body, but from the familiar taste in his mouth, he knew that an ingested pain suppressant was keeping the worst of it at bay. He didn't remember entering what he guessed was the clinic of Meha-Shenaas, but at present, his world consisted of a ceiling and a semi-circle of curtains that met with a windowed wall behind him. He soon heard voices nearby and concentrated on the approaching sound.

"Are you sure it's okay? The healer shooed us out earlier," Lanreth whispered.

"Yes. He said Fenris could have visitors," Anders replied as he swept the curtains aside. Fenris turned his head just enough so that his eye could move the remainder of the distance to catch sight of his visitors. Surprisingly, Tieral was there, as well.

"Oh Fenris..." Lanreth exhaled with a shake of his head as his eyes studied his friend's injuries. Along with his right eye, there were ugly bruises aplenty on Fenris's exposed chest, as well as a nasty split-lip.

"Hello all," Fenris said slowly as he tried to sit up.

"Wait, I can lift the top half for you! The healer showed me how earlier," Anders quickly put a restraining hand on Fenris's shoulder, then disappeared out of view for a moment. "Just tell me if it hurts as I lift."

"Alright... ow... slower, please," Fenris muttered as his torso was raised into a seated position. Anders froze at the elf's sound of pain, then slowly continued until Fenris was almost eye level with his visitors. There was a soft click as the wooden frame was locked into place, and then Anders reappeared at Lanreth's left side, with auburn-haired Tieral on his brother's right.

"Fenris, how are you feeling?" Anders asked. The question was followed by such a look of concern that Fenris had to look away. No matter how many times he had been injured in the past, Anders had never looked at him that way. It would take some getting used to, though he wasn't sure why it bothered him so much.

"To think, we feared the Qunari! When we arrive, you're attacked by an _elf_!" Lanreth muttered in anger.

"Enric's anger was justified," Fenris said as he closed his eyes.

"Is what he said true? That you killed everyone he cared for save for the cripple?" Tieral asked gruffly. Lanreth and Anders both gave the auburn-haired elf looks of disbelief.

"Don't call Braith a cripple!" Fenris hissed as his right eye snapped open again. He fixed the auburn-haired elf with an angry glare, but Tieral shrugged and glared right back.

"So... what would you call someone with one arm and one and a half legs?" The younger elf asked snidely. Fenris winced and looked away.

"Tieral!" Lanreth and Anders both growled.

"Now is not the time!" Tieral's brother added with a sharp look.

"No brother, it most certainly is!" Tieral retorted heatedly. "Who knows what kind of trouble we're in for from the other elves of this place because of what Fenris did in the past? They already assume we stand with him the way you and Anders rushed to his aid!"

"We do stand with him," Anders responded instantly. Fenris's right eye quickly looked up at the mage in surprise.

"You were right there beside me!" Lanreth shot back at his sibling.

"Of course! You're my brother! I didn't want that rabid elf swinging at you the way he did Fenris!"

"Your concern for me is duly noted," Fenris scoffed, with a note of sarcasm that sounded a lot like Hawke. Despite the situation, the hints of a grin perked the corners of Anders's mouth as he looked down at the injured elf.

"He saved us all!" Lanreth snarled as he pointed to Fenris. "And this is how you treat him?"

"I just want to know what all this fog fighter, warrior, _whatever _business is all about! I think we deserve to know the details, since this has already cast us in a bad light. You saw how everyone was looking at us! Like they wanted to beat us as badly as-"

"How dare you!" A sharp voice interrupted Tieral. Fenris looked past the infuriating younger elf to see an unfamiliar human with brown hair and eyes like Hawke, though clean-shaven and heavier-set. Unlike most of the men of the Qunari faith, the human wasn't bare-chested, but instead wore a thin, completely unadorned white robe that was tied at the waist with a teal cord.

"In a house of healing, you berate _my _patient while he is on the mend! _And_ while I am sleeping in the room next door!" The man reached forward with a finger and roughly pushed at Tieral's button nose. The elf was so stunned by the sudden gesture that he didn't have time to block or avoid the touch. "And who said he could have visitors, anyway?" The healer demanded to know with one fist clenched in the air.

"You did!" Anders protested with a worried look at Fenris, before returning his gaze to the healer.

"Well... I... uh..." the healer sputtered in surprise at the rebuttal, before he regained his composure. He then stood up straight and tall, crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes at the blond. "I told you 'a' visitor. As in singular! As in _one_!" He punctuated the remark with his forefinger. "Not a whole gaggle of viddathari who act more like rowdy imekari!"

"Tieral, get out," Lanreth commanded his brother.

"No. He gets _one _visitor, not three, not two," the healer said with a firm shake of his head, then looked at Fenris. "Who do you want to-"

"Anders," the injured elf replied so quickly that the healer didn't even have a chance to finish his sentence. He and Anders both gave Fenris a look of surprise at the speed of the answer, but Lanreth only nodded.

"Be well, Fenris," Lanreth called out before he turned to his younger brother and shoved him roughly ahead. The healer glared at them both, before turning his angry appraisal onto Anders.

"Keep your voices down. I need my sleep," he muttered before shuffling off with a swish of his white robes. Anders watched him go, then turned back to the elf.

"I'd ask how you're feeling, but I already know the answer," Anders said. He couldn't help but wince at the sight of all the injuries.

"Your bedside manner could use some improvement," Fenris replied dryly.

"Well, you've never been the easiest patient to tend to," Anders remarked with a slight grin.

"And you've never had the gentlest of touches when treating me," Fenris retorted with a pointed look. Anders blushed. An angry look crossed the mage's face and his mouth opened, but no words fell from his tongue. He closed his mouth as the worried look returned, then opened it once more to reply with a single word.

"Sorry."

"Please don't. I don't deserve any apologies or sympathy right now." Fenris almost shook his head, but then remembered his earlier experience waking up in a Qunari clinic and refrained.

"So you really did do it?" Anders asked with a hushed voice. When Fenris didn't answer, the mage scowled, but not at the elf, but rather at himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. Oh Maker, I'm being just like Tieral," he said into his right palm. "I should go..." his voice trailed off and he turned away.

"Wait!" Fenris called out loudly. "Wait, please," he said in a softer tone, glancing in the direction the healer had taken. Anders turned back around, his face still apologetic.

"I didn't mean-"

"Tieral is right," Fenris cut the mage off, who furrowed his brows in surprise. "There will be problems ahead and you deserve to know why."

"Fenris-"

"We both assumed your... condition," the elf interrupted him while glancing again past the mage's shoulder, "would present us with the bulk of our troubles once we landed on Seheron. I should have known I would have to answer for my past crimes one day."

"Fenris... you're injured and in pain. You're still medicated. We don't have to talk about this now."

"Anders, you defended me first. I can assure you that such an action did not go unnoticed. Your life here will undoubtedly be more difficult because of me."

"Life has _always _been difficult with you around," Anders quipped with a raised brow.

"I'm being serious, Anders."

"So am I," Anders smirked, but Fenris narrowed his eyes.

"You deserve to know why Enric acted as he did."

"Well... if you're sure," Anders remarked hesitantly, though curiosity was written all over his face.

"I'm sure," Fenris replied with a distant, pensive look despite his assertion to the contrary. The elf exhaled and looked away. Neither man said a word and silence reigned until finally Fenris looked back, his single eye a green pool of ineffable sadness. "Whether I talk about this or not, the memories are going to plague me. I... I would prefer not to be alone with them right now."

"I understand," Anders said softly, before pulling a nearby chair closer and taking a seat.

* * *

Fenris hurried through the city streets of Seheron, the eponymous capital of the island, with Danarius at his side. The acrid smell of smoke warred with the coppery taste of blood for dominance of his senses as he guided his master past one scene of carnage after the other. With a final, desperate push, the armies of Tevinter, aided by several scores of mercenaries and capable slaves like Fenris himself, had pushed the Qunari out of the city. However, it was only a temporary respite. The full might of Par Vollen had finally been brought to bear on Seheron, and if the reports were to be believed, the Qunari force that had been repelled was less than a fourth of the army that now approached from the north. Already, Fenris could hear the hated rumble of cannon fire in the distance, a sound so loud that it even drowned out the trumpeting of the Imperium's mighty war elephants. His heart skipped in fear, but he knew that as long as his master was safe and sound at his side, there was hope for the future.

"Fenris... slow down, _please_!" Danarius coughed and stooped over to catch his breath. He panted loudly as he braced his hands on his dark grey robes. The elven slave's eyes went wide with consternation. Never had Danarius ever uttered the word "please" to him.

"Master, we cannot delay! I must get you to the docks! I must get you to safety!" The elf protested, his exposed skin glistening from the heat of exertion. His lyrium brands afforded him some protection from extremes of temperature, but his lightweight armor still felt uncomfortably hot. The armor was completely unadorned, but embellishments weren't necessary as Fenris's worth was traced onto his very skin. His chestpiece and breeches matched the dark grey color of his master's current robes, as did the large greatsword fastened to his back.

"I will die from exhaustion if we continue to run along at this pace!" Danarius argued with a labored breath.

"Do not speak of your death!" Fenris protested before quickly adding, "please master! It pains me to hear such a thing!" Danarius did not object to the initially insubordinate tone of his slave, as he was too drained from running from his now burning estate at the outskirts of the capital.

"I cannot take one more step-" Danarius began, but he was unable to finish his sentence as Fenris bent down, then scooped his master into his arms.

"Fenris!" Danarius barked out in surprise.

"As long as I draw breath from my body, so will you!" The elf growled in defiance and immediately took off toward the east and the docks. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins and his lyrium brands began to pulse. With renewed strength and purpose, he was hardly slowed down by the weight of the other man in his arms. The magister's head was nestled against his neck and the heady scent of the cologne he wore helped clear Fenris's senses of the smell and taste of battle. Human, elf, and Qunari bodies littered the streets, necessitating several leaps over grisly displays, each causing the magister to shudder in dismay. Fenris tightened his grip, but he could not speak, for every heaving breath was needed for his current task. Before long they crossed into the harbor section of town, where a great milling mass of people screamed and shouted while being held back by several rows of Tevinter soldiers. Fenris narrowed his eyes while he caught his breath and let his brands fade.

"Master, can you walk now?" Fenris didn't look down at the man in his arms, but rather at the crowd blocking his path to one of three galleons still docked. Twice that number had already pulled anchor and were currently sailing out of the harbor.

"Yes," Danarius took a deep breath. "Yes Fenris, I can." His slave gently set him down, then stepped in front of him.

"How will we get through? I don't even have the strength to set this rabble on fire," Danarius stared at the unkempt, underfed, mewling mass of servants and slaves that stood in their path.

"Hold onto my belt, master," Fenris replied calmly. "Whatever you do, do not let go. I will make a path." Danarius said nothing, but the elf soon felt both of the man's hands press against his lower back, then curl around his belt. Fenris's tattoos flashed once more and he stepped forward. With his hands fading in and out of corporeality, he began strike out at every being in his way. There were screams of pain as his ghostly hands seared through flesh, with his victims quickly giving him a wide berth. He did not strike to kill, but the cries of his victims did not deter him. Fenris said nothing, keeping all of his focus on his hands. Never before had he performed this feat so many times without rest, but never before had he felt so determined. His master's life was at stake and he would not fail!

Finally, he had pushed past them all and found himself being stared down by the baleful masks of the Tevinter army.

"Hold slave!" A soldier commanded and stepped forward. He roughly grabbed for the steel collar around Fenris's neck. The elf did not resist and immediately lowered his eyes. He felt Danarius's fingers unravel from his belt and dared to look toward his master as the magister stood in front of him.

"I am magister Danarius of the ancient house of Cassaeon! Unhand my slave and step aside so that I may board this vessel!" Fenris's master commanded, having drawn up to his full height.

"Of course, magister," the soldier bowed, along with several others who blocked the gangplank to the ship. Danarius sneered at them then turned to Fenris.

"Come along my little wolf," he ordered as he stepped forward. He froze when he heard the loud clang of steel behind him and turned to find two pairs of crossed swords blocking Fenris's approach. "What is the meaning of this?" Danarius demanded, his fury causing a crackle of red energy to flash in his eyes despite his fatigue.

"Oh Danarius. Must we spell it our for you? Play time on Seheron is _over_. It is time for all of us to leave our _toys_ behind," a snide voice called down from the ship above.

"Ahriman..." Danarius snarled before he turned around to face the tall, grey-haired magister who looked every bit his eighty-seven years. Both men locked their ice-blue eyes on each other, their frigid enmity seeming to the chill the very air between them. "This elf is _mine_. On whose authority am I denied the transport of my rightful property?" The grey-robed magister bared his teeth at his red-robed rival.

"Oh Danarius, if only you could see yourself in a mirror right now!" Ahriman cackled. "You look every bit the feral creature that your lyrium-branded pet is!"

"I asked you a question, Ahriman! Tell me now or I will not hesitate to take matters into my own hands!" Danarius threatened with a bright flash of crimson from his eyes.

"You don't frighten me, whelp! I was writing dissertations on the mysteries of the Fade when you were still a mere toddler having his bottom scrubbed by house slaves!" The wizened magister laughed again, though the sound held far more cruelty than mirth along its razor-sharp edge.

"Ahriman! I am warning you-"

"Save your warning for the Imperial Archon and the Divine!" Ahriman cut his rival off. "For it is by their joint proclamation that all servants and slaves are to be left behind," Ahriman drawled with a thoroughly patronizing tone that was punctuated by a gleeful smile when the magister glanced from Danarius to Fenris.

"What? How can this be?" Danarius's eyes grew wide and he shook his head in disbelief. "Surely they know that any we leave behind may very well join the Qunari, swelling their ranks even more!"

"The life of a magister, even one as contemptible as yours, is infinitely worth more than that of a servant, let alone a slave! Now get on this ship and let our soldiers do their job!"

"Master?" Fenris called out, immediately drawing Danarius's attention. The two men, master and slave, locked eyes over the glinting, crossed blades.

"Fenris, I..." Danarius didn't dare apologize in the presence of his rival, Ahriman, but the sentiment was plain as day on the magister's blue eyes.

"Master, please. I've been good, haven't I? Please, don't leave me. Don't let them keep me from you..." Fenris pleaded as his green eyes filled with sorrow.

"Fenris, listen to me," Danarius turned around completely and gave no more heed to the hated rival behind him. "You are _mine_. Nothing will ever change that. I _will_ return for you."

"But... master..." Fenris's breath started to become erratic at the thought of being truly separated from the man who was the center of his entire world. "Where am I to go?"

"Into the jungle," Danarius commanded as he glanced off to the line of verdant foliage that lay to the west of the city. "Flee from here as fast as you can! Remain hidden from the Qunari and I will return for you one day. This I swear!"

Fenris watched in horror as his master then turned a way with a flourish of his dark grey robes and stalked up the gangplank, pausing only to give his red-robed, older counterpart a withering look.

"Out of the way slave!" Someone shouted as Fenris was roughly pushed aside. Another three magisters had arrived sans any servants or slaves and were quickly ushered aboard the ship. When the elf looked back up, Danarius was no longer in sight. A feeling of utter hopelessness filled him and he was frozen to the spot. He did not cry, as he was almost bereft of feeling. His master's words had always dictated how he should feel and Danarius's absence left a cold void in his chest.

Fenris wasn't sure how much time had passed, as it now held little meaning, but more fleeing magisters arrived in sporadic waves, pushing their way through the crowd as the sound of cannon fire grew ever closer. With no hope left, Fenris felt a nearly overwhelming desire to throw himself into the water of the harbor and drown himself. However, before he could continue on that train of thought, he suddenly felt himself being watched. He looked up again just as the closest galleon began to pull away from the pier. Danarius was back at the railing and staring his way. Neither man said anything, but the promise in the blue eyes was clear.

_I will return for you..._

A spark of hope returned to Fenris's chest. He would follow his master's orders to the last. With his jaw set with grim determination, he nodded to Danarius. At the simple motion, the magister looked like he was about to cry. It was more than Fenris could bear, and he turned from his master's rare show of weakness. Danarius's will became his focal point and with that clarion thought in mind, his brands flared to life again and he made his way through the crowd.

Fenris raced through the streets of the city away from the dock, like a salmon coursing upstream. Everyone else he passed was headed in the opposite direction with great haste, but the elf kept his eyes on the far hills that matched the color of his eyes. He passed into a wide market square and turned to his right to see the city's northern gates a few blocks away. The massive metal and stone bulwark had already been torn asunder by the earlier Qunari force. Bodies of the fallen giants mingled with those of Tevinter soldiers, with vultures already arriving to start their gluttonous feast. Less than a league away, he could see the remnants of Seheron's army trying to buy the city time against the advancing force, but he knew it was a lost cause. At this distance, the Qunari soldiers' red bodypaint gave them the appearance of an inexorable tidal wave of crimson crashing upon the broken black and grey of Tevinter. Fenris spat to the north in defiance, then gritted his teeth and continued on his way to the western gates of the city, a far safer egress than the gate to his right.

Fenris saw fewer and fewer people the further west he traveled on the city streets. Fallen rubble and burning homes forced him off of a direct path, but he kept his wits about him, and continued to turn west with every chance he got. Making his way to the western gates took longer than expected and by the time he saw his goal, he had to catch his breath. Now only a few blocks away, they were open and in far better shape than their northern counterparts, not that it mattered any longer.

Fenris looked around to see that he had entered a smaller market square lined with abandoned trade workshops. The closest one was a glassworks, with bags of sand piled up outside. Many of the bags had been split open by arrows or errant sword swings, with some still slowly spilling sand onto the bloody cobblestones like grim hourglasses. Here, like elsewhere, the bodies of combatants lay in gruesome repose all around Fenris, including one he did not expect in the city proper.

Fenris paused for a moment next to the great, fallen body of a war elephant. The fact that the animal had been brought into the city to fight on the streets proved just how desperate the earlier battle had been. Though a powerful, hulking beast, even its bones were no match for the cannons of Par Vollen. The elephant's head had been smashed, while the archers' platform on its back had been torn asunder.

Inured to such sights, Fenris rested his back against the dead elephant's body. He took a deep breath to collect his thoughts, when movement instantly drew his attention to the side. From around the bulk of the fallen beast, a lone Qunari warrior stepped forth. There were two intact arrows in his right thigh, while his right shoulder held the broken shaft of one. The giant groaned in pain as he shuffled to Fenris's right, completely unaware of the elf. He dragged a stout warhammer on the sandy cobblestones. Fenris stared at the massive weapon, easily besting his own greatsword in size. He knew the Qunari was bound to the weapon and would never willingly leave it on the field of battle, but the weight of the thing was clearly detrimental to the giant warrior's efforts to walk to the north toward his compatriots.

This _thing _was the cause of Danarius's absence. This _thing _had to die. Fenris slowly, quietly drew his sword and began to stalk toward the limping warrior. The elf was sure he was silent as could be, but the Qunari suddenly stiffened and turned around. Golden eyes narrowed onto green as mighty muscles flexed. The Qunari lifted his warhammer and squared off against the elf.

"_Basra vashedan_! You would creep upon a foe who is completely unaware of your presence and initiate battle without honor!"

"Die!" Fenris bellowed in a voice nearly as deep as the Qunari's and rushed forth with greatsword raised and lyrium tattoos blazing. With speed in clear defiance of both size and injuries, the Qunari expertly blocked one swing after another of Fenris's weapon. The greatsword chipped into the haft of the warhammer, but the gleaming, darkened wood was like none he had ever seen, with its ability to sustain such brutal punishment from an expertly sharpened steel edge. In his frustration, the elf fell prey to an expertly maneuvered feint that caused him to overextend his reach. Fenris barely lifted his greatsword in front of his chest in time for the massive hammer's swing.

The head of the Qunari weapon smashed into Fenris's greatsword with enough force to shatter the steel and throw Fenris up and off of the ground. The elf cried out in disbelief as sharp, glinting shards sliced his cheeks and neck, narrowly missing his eyes and jugular vein. The powerful blow had almost wrenched his broken weapon completely from his hands and his wrists ached from the vibration that had traveled from the point of contact into his very bones. He landed on his back with a dull thud and was nearly brained as the hammer slammed right where his head had been before he had rolled away. Again and again the hammer smashed next to him as he rolled one way, then the other to avoid the blows that felt like miniature earthquakes from the way they pounded the cobblestones to dust. With a grunt of exertion, Fenris rolled to a kneeling position, though he nearly slipped on a patch of sand. He quickly recovered and kicked out with one foot, scoring a blow directly to the Qunari's already injured right leg. His opponent gasped in pain and fell to his knees. With sudden inspiration, Fenris held onto his broken weapon with his left hand and scooped a handful of sand with his right. As the Qunari tried to lurch forward in an awkward half-kneeling, half-standing position, the elf threw the sand in his face.

"Basra vashedan!" The Qunari wailed as his sight was momentarily stolen. Fenris switched the broken sword to his right hand, and surged forward. With a defiant cry of fury, he sliced the jagged edge of the weapon across his foe's face with a backhanded swing. The blood sprayed across his own face as the Qunari was knocked to the side. Fenris immediately raised the blade to finish his enemy off, but was startled by a hissing sound to his left. He turned to see a half-seated Qunari mage with a torso peppered with arrows. The dreaded _saarebas_ was whispering something behind the threaded cord that barely allowed room between his lips. Without hesitation, Fenris threw the fragmented sword at the enemy mage with all his might. The broken, now serrated blade spun through the air with an audible whir, then cleaved several inches deep between his foe's brows. With renewed fear of the fallen bodies all around him, Fenris quickly stood up and raced toward the western gates, not even having the presence of mind to rearm himself.

* * *

The elf had no intention of slowing his pace once he reached the rainforest west of Seheron, but he soon found that it was a necessity when he tripped for the fourth time on an exposed, but unnoticed root. With a more careful step, he entered the rainforest proper. It wasn't as loud as the capital of Seheron, but it was far from quiet. Birds of all varieties called from the canopy above, as if determined to best the shrill cries of the monkeys who shared their arboreal habitat. Along with those sounds was the ever-present background hum of the forest's abundant invertebrate life, including the mosquitoes that harried him every step of the way.

"_Venhedis_!" Fenris cursed as he slapped at a sharp buzzing that passed close to his ear. Already his skin itched at several points, but he knew from experience that scratching only made things worse, and invited infection in the moist environment of the jungle. The angle of the ground had shifted slightly up, as well, slowing him down even more. Beyond the cacophony of the forest, a new sound began to grow in prominence. His long elf ears perked up and then he sighed in relief when he recognized the noise as that of running water somewhere in the distance. The thirst that the day's events had kept at bay began to make itself known.

Fenris changed his course slightly to home in on the source of water, though he wasn't completely certain of his direction. Using the sun as a guide wasn't very feasible in the dense foliage, but he knew that as long as he traveled up, he was moving away from the coast of Seheron and the invading forces of Par Vollen. After a few agonizing minutes, the elf pushed past the broad-leafed undergrowth to find a wide, slowly flowing stream.

Movement from above drew Fenris's attention and he watched as a troop of small, grey monkeys jumped and swung from limb to limb overhead as they crossed from one side of the stream to the other. Even here, with several yards of the forest floor free of trees due to the expanse of water, the sun was obscured from view. The trees on both shores reached greedily for every bit of space in the region between them, leaving the thick verdant blanket of the canopy intact.

The tilt of the elf's head caused a drop of sweat to slip from his upper lip into his mouth. The salty drop reminded Fenris sharply of his thirst and he looked back down at the enticing body of water before him. Other than the bits of driftwood that floated lazily with the languid current, the stream looked relatively clean. However, Fenris knew that looks could be deceiving. Tea was the drink of choice on Seheron for reasons beyond taste. Water on the island was best imbibed after being boiled first as a precaution. His thirst warred with this simple fact, known to all the inhabitants of Seheron. Finally common sense won out and Fenris stepped back and away from the water. He knew of some local fruits that held a significant amount of water in their pulp. He would try that first if he could locate some trees. In the meantime, he entered the undergrowth of the forest once more and continued his slow ascent into the green hills of Seheron that buffered the coast from the low mountains of the island's interior.

Fenris came upon a massive, uprooted tree. From the large gap in the canopy, he knew it had fallen recently, otherwise, the surrounding foliage would have greedily stretched for the available sunlight. Through the space above, he could see Seheron's central mountain range off in the distance. Only half of it could be viewed however, as the rest was covered on the windward side with a permanent stretch of fog from the band of low-lying clouds. He narrowed his eyes slightly. There had been rumors of brigands that operated out of the foggiest regions of Seheron, though the infrequent incursions into smaller towns were hardly a concern compared to the Qunari threat, especially since it was said that the bandits also attacked Qunari holdings. Why anyone would live out in the rainforest by choice was beyond him, but Fenris's musings on the subject mostly faded away except for a heightened awareness of his surroundings. There were plenty of dangers in the forest beyond brigands, and the warrior was on alert.

Fenris stepped over one of the fallen branches of the tree and then stood stock-still at a hissing sound below and to the left. He barely turned his head, but his eyes moved to the side to see a beige and black cobra close by his foot. It was a small serpent, but the venom the creature possessed commanded his full attention. The cobra's head was flared out in its instinctual threat display and it swayed slightly as it looked right up into his eyes. The elf didn't dare move, not even to step away. Seconds stretched insufferably long, but when Fenris remained as still as a statue, the cobra finally retracted its hood and lowered its head to the ground. The snake's slithering body quickly disappeared into the undergrowth. Fenris exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, then carded his hands through his snow-white hair. He resolved himself to avoiding fallen branches when possible as he continued through the forest.

The elf's brush with danger had pushed thoughts aside of his thirst for a time, but eventually the need reasserted itself. He continued to scan the forest for anything that could safely quench his thirst. Fenris kept his eye out for starfruit in particular, the juiciest of the local edibles, but so far he had no luck in locating anything of the sort. Thus, he consciously maneuvered through the forest so that he could always hear the sound of the water nearby. Some people were left with only a minor stomach ache from unboiled water. If there were no alternatives, he decided that he would have to try his luck with the stream after all.

* * *

The already low light of the forest was now noticeably dimmer. It wasn't quite dusk, but Fenris could tell that it would be soon. He stopped for a moment and took in his immediate surroundings. There was really nothing even remotely resembling a modicum of shelter on the forest floor. But even if he had found something, the elf didn't exactly relish the thought of sleeping on the ground, out in the open. So Fenris looked up. He had always been a still sleeper, hardly moving at all. If worst came to worst, he wagered that he could find a spot among some of the larger branches of a tree and sleep there. Once that was decided, the elf began to walk again.

Fenris didn't consciously move to intersect the stream, though he liked keeping it close. So it came as a bit of surprise when he found himself directly in front of it once more. He thought that perhaps his thirst had directed his steps, but then he noticed the sharp bend in the stream that had likely put it across his current path. With the water so close by again, and his thirst much further along than before, Fenris didn't hesitate to kneel at the shore. The elf licked his lips in anticipation and cupped his hands beneath the surface. Like before, he noticed various bits of driftwood floating nearby, but one in particular caused him to pause, though he wasn't quite sure why. He lifted his water-laden palms for his mouth, when the realization hit him. The closest piece of wood was drifting _against_ the current.

Fenris barely had time to process the information when the surface of the stream erupted in a great spray of water. His cry of fright was drowned out by the roar of a crocodile as the great beast surged onto the shore with jaws open wide. Fenris slipped on the wet ground, but quickly rolled out of the way of the snapping maw. The crocodile rushed at him again, but this time, Fenris was ready. With battle-born instincts, Fenris crouched lowed, then jumped up as the savage reptile charge underneath him. The limber elf twisted in mid-air and landed right on top of the crocodile so that he straddled the beast as if riding a horse. The reptile tried to shake the elf off, but the tattoos of Fenris's right hand blazed as he plunged it into the crocodile's head. The brain of the beast was small, but Fenris knew he had guessed the location correctly by the instant stillness under him. He first sensed, rather than saw, movement around him. He turned around, still on the crocodile's back to see more pieces of supposed driftwood making their way toward him. Fenris growled in frustration, then scrambled off of the dead crocodile and raced into the forest again.

The elf rounded a large tree, then stopped and leaned back against it to catch his breath. No sooner had he done so, when he felt several tiny pricks on his left hand followed by a sharp pain. He immediately lifted his hand to his face, then shouted in horror at the sight of a large, bright orange centipede hanging from it. He shook the massive invertebrate off of his hand with enough force to hurtle it far away, then looked at the already swelling bite wound. His heart began to race as he tried to remember everything he knew of the venomous fauna of Seheron. His panic began to grow as he failed to recall anything specific about centipedes.

Fenris broke out into a cold sweat as he stumbled away from the tree while clutching his left hand. The pain was mostly concentrated in his last two fingers, but it was also spreading up his arm. He blinked and shook his head, then swooned and fell to the ground. He remained on all fours as a sudden shaking overtook his body, but through sheer force of will, he stood up and began to walk forward once more.

The sounds of the forest seemed to grow louder with each step. The buzzing, humming, clicking, and shrieking assaulted his ears. Each noise carried pain that vied with the throbbing in his left hand and arm. Each sound now had an edge of utter malevolence that frightened the disoriented elf to the core. He hadn't even noticed when he had stepped into a wide clearing, but when his eyes focused on the scene before him, he froze.

Two leopards were in the act of mating, with a spotted female being mounted by a male with fur so dark that the usual faint rosettes that could be seen on a black leopard were completely masked. Both felines loomed quite large in his eyes and Fenris gasped before he could stifle himself. Two pairs of topaz eyes instantly locked onto him. The large cats snarled as the male pulled away from the female, and both slowly approached him with fangs bared. This time, all of Fenris's instincts screamed at him to run rather than fight. However, his shivering of pain from the centipede venom only increased and his legs refused to move. A sudden sound brought the cats' approach to a halt. It sounded like metal striking stone, once, then again. Both predators looked up above Fenris. The elf kept his wide eyes squarely on the felines until his sight was partially blocked by a figure who fell from above to land between Fenris and the two growling beasts. The stranger held a burning torch in hand and waved it threateningly at the leopards. Both cats balked at the flame, but continued to snarl.

"Not this one, Midnight! Take your mate of the day and find other prey!" A tenor voice commanded. From the slight build of the body, Fenris guessed the man was either an elf or a young human. Fenris felt his legs give out completely and he slumped to the forest floor as the other man stood his ground. Fenris rolled onto his back and he could no longer see the leopards. However, he no longer cared, as the pain in his arm forced away all other concerns. A face soon moved into sight above him. The other elf was a blond with dark blue eyes. They stared at each other, until the blue eyes glanced down at Fenris's slave collar.

"I'm Braith. Don't worry, the leopards are gone," he assured Fenris. He then smirked and added, "now don't be rude. What's your name?"

"Centi..." Fenris replied with difficulty as his body was taken with another bout of shaking. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton as he tried to speak.

"Centi? Well, that's an odd name, but-"

"Centipede..." Fenris interrupted with a gasp. His strength was fading fast, but he managed to lift his left arm slightly off the ground. Braith noticed the movement and reached down to grasp Fenris's arm with both hands. Though his touch was gentle, the prone elf hissed in pain as Braith looked the arm over. The deep blue eyes grew wide when they noticed the discolored bite mark.

Braith set Fenris's hand down, then quickly stood up. The blond elf took a deep breath, then placed his thumb and forefinger at his lips. A shrill whistle issued forth that Fenris would have sworn was from a bird had he not witnessed the other elf in the act. Braith whistled again, this time in a staccato rhythm. Soon a matching bird song called back from far away to Fenris's right, overlapping with another from his left. A third song reached his ears, and then a fourth, both from entirely different cardinal points. Braith repeated the call, and again the four birdsongs replied, this time slightly louder and perhaps closer. As he faded from consciousness, Fenris imagined a flock of multicolored, tropical songbirds converging on his location.

* * *

"What do you think the tattoos mean, Arvel?" Fenris heard someone ask with a rich baritone voice directly above him just as he woke up. His breath almost caught, but he forced himself to inhale and exhale calmly. On instinct, he feigned sleep and listened closely.

"I have an idea, Enric, though I've never seen these designs on a body before," another voice answered close by, though this one was slightly hoarse as if the speaker was on the verge of having a cold or on the mend from one.

"But you've seen them on something else?" The voice Fenris recognized as Braith asked from further away.

"On a few weapons, yes. Very ancient and of elven make. My former master had a collection passed down through his family, said to be from the very halls of Arlathan's royal palace. I recall patterns similar to these etched into only two weapons out of the multitude that had been plundered from our ancestors. The color is remarkably similar, as well."

"Do you think his tattoos are made from the same material?" Braith wondered aloud, eliciting a raspy chuckle from Arvel.

"No, no. They look similar, but they cannot be the same. The weapons were engraved with lyrium. To do so on a living being would be unthinkable. Molten lyrium would sear the flesh. With the sheer amount of these tattoos covering every bit of his body, the pain would have been unimaginable and the survival of the recipient highly doubtful. No, these tattoos are surely some artistic rendering with metallic dye by some magister who was inspired by weapons of old," Arvel explained.

"Regardless of what they're made of, they're beautiful..." Braith mused. Fenris suddenly felt a finger gently running up the length of a lyrium brand on his left arm. His eyes immediately snapped open and he snatched the offending hand with his right. There were several gasps of surprise, but Fenris's attention was focused solely on Braith. The blond elf did not resist as his hand was forced away from the tattoo.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Braith exclaimed with sheepish expression. Fenris's eyes only narrowed in response.

"Only my master, or those he has given leave to, may touch me," Fenris growled. At the mention of his master, the other elf's expression instantly soured.

"There are no masters here," Braith stated angrily and tried to pull his wrist away, but Fenris's steely grip only tightened.

"You're still ill from the centipede's venom. Don't waste your strength on idiots who can't keep their hands to themselves," a pleasant, deep voice urged. Kind green eyes set beneath a mass of wavy dark-brown hair moved into Fenris's field of vision next to Braith. Fenris's gaze shifted slightly to take in the sight of the second elf whose name he had matched to a voice first. Enric. The brunet had broad shoulders and a solid frame that looked almost human. So taken was Fenris by the second elf's physical presence that his grip loosened just enough for Braith to wrench his arm from Fenris's grasp.

Fenris grunted and struggled to sit up. The brunet elf at his side instantly helped him by offering his arm for support. Fenris stared at it for a moment, before swallowing his pride. It was a bit of a struggle, as he wasn't in a bed with a proper headboard, but rather a rickety cot covered with thin cloth. Fenris finally managed to sit upright with Enric's help, and crossed his legs so that his knees rested over both sides of the thin cot's frame. To his right, opposite Braith and Enric, stood an older, slightly stooped elf with black hair streaked with copious strands of grey. All three of the strange elves wore threadbare, long-sleeved tunics and ragged breeches of mottled green that only the poorest of magisters would let his or her slaves be seen in. On Danarius's estate, even slaves meant for blood sacrifice wore better garments. He felt a pang of sadness as he thought of his master. Instead of the rich, palatial estate he was accustomed to, he found himself off to one side of a shabby tent that was lit by three burning torches set into the ground at the very center. He could smell the smoke faintly, but unlike the rich, complex aromas of sandalwood and imported hickory, the torches gave off the scent of peat and pitch. Thankfully, most of the smoke left the tent through the large, open flap at the top.

"You're welcome for saving your life," Braith huffed as he rubbed at his sore wrist.

"Thank you," Fenris said without emotion. He knew that by all rights, he should feel far more grateful, but there was something intensely grating about the short blond elf.

"You sincerity humbles me," Braith said with an intensely sarcastic sneer as he crossed his arms at his chest.

"Braith..." Enric chided softly. The blond narrowed his eyes at the brunet.

"So you're taking a stranger's side over your lover's?" Braith scowled. Fenris's eyes involuntarily glanced from Enric to Braith, then back to Enric.

"Braith..." Enric repeated with a shake of his head.

"Bah!" Braith snapped and turned on his heels. "Have fun treating this one!" The short blond added over his shoulder as he stormed out of the tent.

"Don't mind Braith. He has a quick temper," Enric remarked with a sigh.

"Our patient must be thirsty. Give him some water." Arvel changed the subject. The younger elf followed his elder's instructions immediately and turned away for a moment. Fenris soon found a waterskin held in front of him. The snow-haired elf tried to take hold of it with both hands, but found he was unable to grip anything with his left due to the layers of gauze wrapped around it. Before he could ask, Enric pulled the stopper from the waterskin and motioned for him to drink.

"Has this been boiled first?" Fenris asked with a suspicious look at the waterskin that felt quite cool in his right hand.

"What do you take me for? I'm not an idiot. Of course it was boiled," Enric chided him. Fenris took a test sip, but as soon as the cool water covered his tongue, his thirst surged to life. He threw caution to the wind and emptied the waterskin in mere seconds. He took a deep breath as Enric took the waterskin from him and handed him another that was half-full. The brunet added, "tea tastes bitter if it sits in a waterskin for too long and everything tends to cool off quickly here in the fog forest..."

Fenris dropped the second waterskin at the mention of fog. "You're Fog Warriors!" He gasped.

"That we are, though from the look you're giving us, I'm thinking that's not such a good thing as far as you're concerned," Arvel rasped with a sly smile.

"I have no money," Fenris replied angrily as Enric took hold of the fallen waterskin and put it away, out of Fenris's sight.

"Yes... I'm sure Braith just _loved _facing down two leopards enraged at the interruption of their mating session... all for a bit of coin!" The brunet joked at his left while Arvel cackled on his right.

"Then why did he save me?" Fenris asked with a blush.

"Because you're a slave," Enric scratched and pointed at his own neck, exactly where a collar would have been. "Or rather, you _were _a slave."

"I am _still _a slave," Fenris stated flatly.

"No, my boy. Though Braith is right a lot less than he imagines, he certainly was when he said there are no masters here. No masters and no slaves," Arvel said with a smile.

"You don't steal from innocents?" Fenris asked with an edge to his voice.

"Oh we steal!" Arvel chuckled. "But our victims are hardly innocent."

"Thieves always have excuses," Fenris snapped.

"Okay... I know you've recently been through quite an ordeal traveling through the forest completely alone," Enric took a quick breath, "and I'm loathe to agree with Braith when he's in one of his moods... but really, you could stand to be a _little _more grateful right now."

"I'm sorry," Fenris said sincerely and lowered eyes.

"Apology accepted," Enric said with a quick glance at Arvel.

"Am I your prisoner then?"

"No!" Enric and Arvel both guffawed.

"Then I can go right now then," Fenris said as he quickly uncrossed his legs and stood up. He instantly regretted his decision as his head burst into pain and he stumbled to the ground. He saw the forest floor rush at his face, but was stopped a few inches from impact by Enric's speedy intervention.

"Be thankful Enric is assisting me tonight. Had it been Braith, your face would have been well-acquainted with the ground," Arvel chortled, then motioned to the brunet with a tilt of his head. Enric obeyed instantly and helped Fenris back into the cot, though he lay back down instead of sitting. Arvel and Enric were silent as Fenris moaned in pain for a bit. When he quieted down to just intermittent whimpers, Enric cleared his throat.

"We're rebels and value freedom above all else. You're free to go, but please let us help you before you go rushing off into the wilderness again. The venom still hasn't run its full course," the brunet elf explained.

"And how long will I be cursed by the centipede's bite?" Fenris asked with a deep frown. Enric shrugged and looked to Arvel, who continued to hold his hands behind his back.

"Feel the temperature from his forehead, then check his pulse," the older elf instructed. Enric rolled up the sleeves of his tunic to do as he was bid, but Fenris moved his head out of the way.

"You bark orders at him while you stand there just as close to me! 'Take his temperature, check his pulse, give him water,' whatever you tell him to do, he snaps to attention and follows your bidding without question! Say what you will, but there are indeed masters here!" Fenris sneered. Arvel raised a brow, while Enric pulled away from Fenris and gave the older elf standing on the other side of the cot a nervous, saddened look.

"We have not been properly introduced, though no doubt you've heard my name while you were supposedly sleeping. I am Arvel. And your name?"

"Fenris," the injured warrior replied coldly.

"Well, Fenris. Enric here helps me because my former master made it difficult for me to do such things on my own," Arvel stated with an edge to his hoarse voice. He took his arms from behind his back and held them up, with elbows bent. Where his hands should have been, only scarred stumps of flesh remained. "While I've learned to use my feet for many things," Arvel continued, "hands are easier to keep clean for handling patients." Fenris's eyes widened at the sight and he opened his mouth before he could stop himself.

"What happened?"

"My master found me pleasuring myself one night. He told me that my hands were for his pleasure alone. He was already drunk and this put him in a rage. He burned my hands off to teach me a lesson," Arvel answered without emotion.

"How... how can you speak of such things to strangers?" Fenris gasped, scandalized by the open discussion of masturbation, as well as the horror at the punishment for it.

"A wise woman taught me long ago that the shame of such torture rests with the perpetrators, not their victims," Arvel stated.

"That's just common sense, though since most of you men lack it, I suppose I do seem like a woman wise beyond her years," a short human female in similarly disheveled clothing stated as she threw the entrance flap of the tent aside and entered. She was a bit on the scrawny side, with red hair and freckles. A long black dagger was suspended from her belt. Fenris had seen blackened steel before, but the way light played across the surface of the blade told him that it was forged from some other metal.

"How much did you hear, Senna?" Arvel asked with a sigh.

"Enough to know that you have a particularly difficult patient in this one," she answered with a withering look at Fenris. The elf in question averted his eyes.

"And what brings you here, other than eavesdropping outside of the tent?"

"Is that any way to greet your wife?" Senna smirked before leaning in to kiss her husband just as Fenris swung a surprised look their way. The elf and human were not slave and master, but husband and wife? Senna raised a brow at the look Fenris was giving her, then kissed Arvel again for good measure before turning to Enric.

"Enric, I need to talk to you about the next hog hunt. A new sounder of wild pigs has moved into the area, and there's a large farrow of piglets with them."

"You make it sound like there's bad news to go along with this otherwise pleasant surprise," Enric replied with pursed lips.

"There is," she sighed and scratched her head . "They moved right into the heart of Midnight's territory from the looks of it. We'll have to be extra careful. Especially since I've been told he isn't too pleased with a certain scout interrupting his amorous activities."

"Braith wasn't the one who interrupted him. That honor goes to our difficult patient," Enric chuckled and motioned with his thumb to Fenris.

"Still, I heard Braith was the one who chased him off with a torch. Midnight isn't a very forgiving cat. Knowing he'll be close by will complicate our plans."

"Please dear, don't bore us with all the details of the coming hunt! My patient, as ornery as he is, deserves some peace," Arvel protested, his arms once again hidden behind his back.

"My thoughts exactly. I'd like to take a walk with Enric if you can manage without him."

"Of course." Arvel gave his wife a quick nod.

"Shall I call Braith to take his place?"

"No!" Arvel, Enric, and Fenris all answered as one, causing Senna to regard them all with a curious look.

"Will you be okay in here alone with him, though?" She gave Fenris a suspicious look.

"Enric, can you check his temperature and pulse?" Arvel reminded the brunet elf of his earlier request. The taller elf nodded quickly and did as he was told. This time Fenris remained still and didn't say a word. Enric placed the back of one hand against his forehead and felt Fenris's wrist with the other. "He's still running a slight fever and his pulse is rather weak."

"Hmmm, the venom will take more than a full night's rest to dissipate, so I'll be safe in his presence. Besides, his earlier attempt to walk away was less than a rousing success," Arvel smirked.

"Well, I've never doubted your skills as a healer. Though, as a singer-"

"Get out, Senna!" Arvel commanded, though his face held a smile that was mirrored by his wife. She winked and then pulled Enric with her out of the tent.

"I'm sorry... about what I said. Your hands... I had no idea," Fenris offered with a truly apologetic look.

"Don't worry. I probably shouldn't hide my arms so much, but it's become a bit of a habit. Like I said, I have no shame of them or how they were created. But... the sight of them does make some people uncomfortable," Arvel said with a slight shrug.

"Then that is their problem, not yours," Fenris said with a sudden intensity. Arvel studied the other elf's face for a moment as Fenris continued to speak. "The pain and loss... you've handled it far better than I could ever imagine. You have my respect, Arvel. You don't have to hide your arms from me."

"Well, thank you Fenris. I appreciate that," he said as he moved his arms back into view. Fenris forced himself not to stare, though he was painfully aware of the stumps in his peripheral vision.

"So... you're a singer?" Fenris asked, grasping at the first change of subject that came to mind.

"I am, and a good one at that, despite my wife's assessment," Arvel answered with his raspy tone. Fenris found the statement somewhat dubious given the quality of the other elf's speaking voice, but he was curious nonetheless.

"Can you sing something for me?"

"Certainly. What would like?"

"You choice," Fenris answered with a shrug. Arvel nodded.

"Do you know Elvish?"

"No."

"Oh well, that doesn't matter. The emotions matter more than the words. This is 'Anaralaa Balorei.' It translates into the 'Lost Heirs.'"

"That... rings a bell, actually," Fenris whispered as a sudden memory flickered in his mind. The strange words in his mind matched the ones Arvel began to sing, though the recollection soon faded away. The hoarseness of the older elf's voice faded somewhat as he sang, though it remained clearly discernible. However, it added a rich, husky tone to the melody in a way that Fenris had not expected, but rather liked.

Arvel had also been right about the emotions of the song. Though he could not understand the words, Fenris easily followed the meandering flow of sadness that shifted into sudden peaks of elation. He imagined the pain of losing something dear and the intense joy of it being found once more. The song then softened in intensity. It now conveyed a feeling of peace and comfort that all was truly well, despite a troubling past. The melody washed over him, and before Fenris knew it, he had been lulled back to sleep.

* * *

"No more!" Fenris screamed as he awoke in a cold sweat. He could still see the glint of the hollow needle that held the molten lyrium. The scent of his burning flesh still filled his nostrils. And the pain... echoes of it seemed to travel through every inch of his body. He rubbed at his arms and wished that he could rip his own skin away if it meant being rid of the sensation.

The nightmare had felt so real, the images so clear in his mind that it took him a moment to realize he was not in Danarius's dungeon receiving his brands for the first time. The sight of the simple tent's interior and the two shocked elves before him warred with the horrific recollection.

Fenris immediately sat up in the cot and tried to calm his breath while Enric and Arvel continued to stare at him. Both seemed about to say something, when Senna, Braith, and three other Fog Warriors rushed into the tent with weapons drawn. One of them was a large human man, a Rivaini from the looks of it, who carried a massive battleaxe.

"What is going on?" Senna demanded with her black dagger pointed at Fenris.

"He was in the midst of a nightmare," Arvel replied calmly.

"He..." Enric began to add, but Arvel gave him a sharp look and a subtle shake of his head that only the tall brunet and Fenris noticed. "He had a nightmare," Enric amended, though Fenris wondered what the other elf had almost said.

"He woke up half the forest! You should have seen all the birds that took flight when that commotion started!" Senna groused.

"I hope no Qunari or Tevinter patrols heard him," Braith added with a sneer. There was a murmur of assent from the unfamiliar Fog Warriors flanking him.

"There will not be any Tevinter patrols. At least not for a while," Fenris murmured.

"And how do you know that?" Braith scoffed.

"I was at the battle of Seheron. The Qunari were victorious and the capital of the island was evacuated," Fenris answered.

"I know for a fact that there are still Tevinter holdings on the western coast," Senna argued.

"Though the Imperium still holds a few forts and outposts, for all intents and purposes, with the capital fallen, the Qunari have wrested control of Seheron from Tevinter."

"Well, I still say that-" Braith began.

"Enough. All of you out! My patient had a nightmare, nothing more. This is not the place to discuss the machinations of our enemies to the east or south," Arvel ordered with a wave of his arm stubs. Of the five visitors, all but Senna blushed at the sight of the maimed limbs before quickly exiting the tent. There were murmurs outside from other Fog Warriors who had approached, but Senna assured them loudly that all was well, though the doubt in her voice was clearly evident.

"Sorry, I... I didn't mean to startle anyone," Fenris apologized.

"You glowed," Enric whispered. Fenris looked away in silence. "What are those tattoos?" The brunet elf asked.

"A mistake," Fenris answered flatly as his eyes met Enric's.

"You should still be ill," Arvel remarked as his eyes traveled the length of Fenris's body before he turned to Enric. "You know the drill," he motioned with his head. Enric hesitated and gave both the healer and the patient nervous looks.

"May... may I touch you?" Enric asked as he approached Fenris carefully and with palms held up. Fenris didn't say a word, but nodded. Enric's fingers were shaking slightly as he felt Fenris's forehead and wrist. He let go, quickly backed away, then turned to Arvel with a look that was equal parts fear and awe.

"The fever is completely gone and his pulse is strong!" Enric said with an air of disbelief.

"As I suspected." Arvel pursed his lips. "Tell me Fenris. Those tattoos of yours. Those are lyrium aren't they?"

"Yes," Fenris answered with a sudden surge of shame, the source of which he had no clue.

"But Arvel! You said last night that no one could have survived such pain!" Enric protested as he turned wide eyes from Fenris to the healer.

"Actually, I said that survival was highly doubtful," Arvel gently corrected the brunet elf before turning his eyes back to his patient. He shook his head. "Fenris. My dear Fenris. We spoke last night of these," Arvel held up his arm stubs. "I'd wager that you experienced pain as great, if not greater."

"I'd rather not wager at all and settle it as a draw," Fenris replied with a sullen frown, though the remark made Arvel smile just a tad.

"Still, it seems this 'mistake' has proven to be boon of a sorts," Arvel ventured. "You recovered from a venomous wound that would have killed some and left others certainly weak for days."

"The cuts on his face and neck. I tended to them earlier, but they're far better than they should be," Enric added, forcing Fenris to recall his battle with the Qunari warrior with the warhammer who had shattered his sword and showered him with its shards.

"Well Fenris, it seems the bulk of our work is done, then. Though brief, it has been a pleasure knowing you," Arvel said with a bow. Before he even stood back up, he elbowed Enric, who quickly bowed along with him. Fenris just stared at them, unsure of what to do or say.

"Thank you... for everything. I would have died out there. If not from the leopards, then from the centipede bite," Fenris finally uttered.

"You're welcome," Arvel and Enric replied in unison.

"We'll pack a few provisions, including two full waterskins and a dozen strips of smoked pork," Arvel added. "It isn't much, but if you ration wisely, you'll be able to reach the coast. As much as I do not like them, the Qunari have been known to take pity on slaves. You still have a collar, which may swing opinion even further in your favor."

"I..." Fenris broke out once more into a cold sweat at the mention of the Qunari.

"Yes?" Arvel raised a brow at his patient's sudden hesitation.

"I..." Fenris gulped, then remembered his master's parting words. _Remain hidden from the Qunari and I will return for you one day..._

"Come now Fenris, your tongue was not injured as far as I could tell. Speak your mind," Arvel urged with a knowing smirk.

"I want to stay," Fenris finally said with a gasp just as the tent's entrance flap swung open.

"Please tell me I misheard that!" Braith whined as he avoided the instant glare from Fenris and looked only at Arvel and Braith.

"Braith..." Enric warned, though the blond elf shrugged, then pinched the taller elf's bottom with no attempt to hide the gesture from Fenris or Arvel. "Braith!" Enric shouted and swatted the hand away.

"Can you two please save that for your tent?" Arvel sighed.

"Senna pinches your bottom in public far more than I pinch Enric's!" Braith chuckled. "Ouch!" He cried out as Enric smacked him loudly on the shoulder.

"We were in the middle of something," Arvel nodded to Fenris.

"Oh. Right. Wonderful." Braith said dryly as he looked back to Fenris. "Enric told me you wanted to leave last night."

"Am I not allowed to change my mind?" Fenris shot back.

"_Well_, onto more important matters," Braith said with a roll of his eyes. "Senna wanted me to fetch Enric. She wants to go over the plans for today's hunt again."

"I've hunted boar before. I can help," Fenris piped up, eager to challenge Braith's dismissive attitude.

"We're not hunting the boars," the blond elf scoffed.

"But-"

"We're hunting the piglets," Braith cut Fenris off.

"What? But the boars have better meat-"

"And they're harder to kill, and require the shedding of far too much blood to take down. Blood that leaves a trail for predators or patrols to follow back to camp," Enric explained gently before Braith had time to add a snide comment in.

"The hunters scatter the more dangerous sows and bludgeon the piglets. They're easy to carry in sacks and there's very little blood," Arvel added dispassionately.

"That's rather... ruthless," Fenris said with a look of surprise at the three elves. They all shrugged.

"And very practical," Arvel remarked. Braith was about to add something more, but he was caught off-guard by a sudden swat to the stomach.

"Would you really like to help?" Enric asked after turning from Braith to regard Fenris with a smile.

"It's the least I can do," Fenris replied.

"Wait, shouldn't he still be too ill to walk around, much less hunt?" Braith asked with a suspicious look at the white-haired elf.

"He had a rather quick recovery," Arvel answered plainly.

"More likely he confused a caterpillar for a centipede," Braith said with a snort.

"A few angry hogs can't be all that frightening after facing down an army of hornheads," Enric said, ignoring Braith. "Plus, it's the breeding season, so the sounder might have a few adult males along with the sows. If the thought of charging tuskers doesn't loosen your bladder, we could use your help in getting their attention," Enric elaborated with a chuckle.

"Then I'm your man," Fenris replied resolutely.

"_I'm_ his man," Braith growled possessively as he wrapped an arm around Enric's waist.

"Cut it out," Enric warned with an exasperated huff and stepped out of the embrace.

"Braith, come help me put some things away," Arvel asked gruffly.

"But Senna wanted me to get Enric!" The blond elf protested.

"And Enric is on the way. With Fenris. I think we can both agree that he'll do a better job of introducing our newest Fog Warrior to the rest," Arvel replied with a sharp look.

"You're already calling him a Fog Warrior?" Braith growled. "We haven't even removed his collar!"

"Shut up Braith and make yourself useful," Arvel snapped. The blond elf said something under his breath, but otherwise did as he was told.

"Is there anything you'd like me to pass along to your wife?" Enric asked as he and Fenris prepared to exit the tent.

"Just let her know that I will be there to share the pre-hunt meal," Arvel answered as he began to push the cot to the side of the tent with one foot while Braith bundled a few stray vials into a wicker basket.

"Will do," Enric said over his shoulder. He then stopped, and looked over at Fenris, who wore nothing other than a pair of breeches. Arvel noticed the look and nodded.

"There are some extra tunics in the far basket," the healer said to Braith. The blond elf narrowed his eyes, then turned away and stalked toward the container. He open the basket, pulled out a green, long sleeve tunic, bunched it up into a tight ball, then threw it at Fenris.

"You're welcome," Braith muttered when Fenris pulled the tunic on without a word. With that done, Enric motioned the former patient forward, and together they left the confines of the tent.

Fenris had wondered silently why all the men wore long sleeve tunics in the steamy jungle, but as soon as he had stepped outside, he realized why. The forest surroundng the tent was blanketed by a thick, cold mist. He shivered involuntarily and rubbed his arms. He had not thought of it earlier, but he now realized that all of the warmth he had felt in the tent had been from the torches, not the ambient heat of the rainforest.

"But rainforests are never this cold!" Fenris marveled.

"Indeed. We're in a fog forest," Braith said with a smile. "Well, cloud forest would be the proper term, but it's all the same really."

As Enric guided him forward, Fenris started to notice other tents scattered about, though none were anywhere near as large as the one he had been in. The size seemed best suited for one person, or perhaps two if the invididuals were very well-acquainted. Details that were first obscured by the mist became discernible as he passed the tents by. They all had a very makeshift appearance, with strips of various types of leather and fabric all sewn together in a great mishmash, with repurposed fallen branches as support. Anything that wasn't a natural shade of brown had been been dyed various shades of green.

Fenris looked up at the fog-covered canopy. It was clearly daytime, but the sun's position was a mystery from the combination of foliage and mist. However, there was one detail that caused him to pause.

"The band of clouds we're in..."

"Yes?" Enric asked and slowed down as Fenris looked around.

"I remember seeing it from the forest closer to the coast. It was on the mountainside, yet the ground here is flat," Fenris remarked curiously.

"You'll find that Seheron's mountains are dotted with many plateaus like this," Enric stopped walking and waved his hands around. "This one isn't very large compared to some, but it's one of the flattest and has consistent fog cover from day to night. Even the smoke from a large bonfire would blend in completely with the fog and clouds that extend from here all the way up the mountain. Plus, this location is close to Lel'Ashelenorei."

"What is that?" Fenris asked.

"Oh. Well, the literal translation from Elvish is 'Second Home,' but a closer interpretation would be 'Sanctuary.' It's where we go if patrols get too close to camp." Enric explained.

"Then why not live at Sanctuary at all times?" Fenris asked bluntly.

"That's..." Enric mulled over his thoughts for a moment. "That's something better explained by Arvel," he managed with a shrug. "Now let's not keep Senna waiting!" He urged and began to walk forward once more. Fenris quickly followed and soon saw the dim light from a small fire, around which stood about a dozen Fog Warriors in a semi-circle. Most were elven men, but along with Senna, there were two elven woman, and the Rivaini man he had seen earlier with the battleaxe. Arvel's redheaded wife had a thin stick in hand which was pointed at the ground.

"Where's Braith?" Senna asked with a quick glance at Fenris before her gaze settled on Enric.

"He's helping Arvel clean the healing tent."

"And what is he doing here?" Senna motioned to Enric's white-haired companion. "Shouldn't he be resting still?"

"He recovered faster than Arvel originally expected," Enric answered vaguely.

"Probably bitten by a young centipede. All the pain, half the venom," the Rivaini man remarked with a nod in Fenris's direction. "Those creatures are brightly colored for a reason. You got lucky this time, but keep an eye out in the future."

"I intend to," Fenris nodded back to the man.

"Regardless, he's feeling much better now and wants to help with the hunt," Enric interjected, then added, "Arvel thought he would be a good addition." He punctuated his sentence with a look that clearly said "_be nice._" Senna was undeterred.

"Sure, he can help, but he isn't getting a weapon until he's earned our trust," she stated flatly to a few murmurs of assent around the fire.

"Arvel's word is gold in my opinion," the Rivaini said with a shrug. He stepped forward and extended his hand to Fenris. The elf hesitated from surprise, then collected himself and shook the hand. "I'm Hector," he introduced himself.

"Fenris."

"Well Fenris, I hope your skills on the battlefield translate well on a hunt, even without a weapon," Hector remarked with a smirk. When he stepped aside, other Fog Warriors followed the man's lead and made their own introductions with varying degrees of warmth. There were too many names for Fenris to remember them all, but a few stuck. The elf with jet-black hair and amber eyes, a rarity among their kind, was named Gethin. Another elf, Madoc, was even shorter than Braith, with brown hair and blue eyes. The elven women, both with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes, were the sisters Cerys and Bryn.

"You already know my name," Senna waved dismissively. "Now, back to business," she said as she tapped the stick in her hand onto the ground. Upon closer inspection, Fenris saw a rough sketches, with lines and arrows that looked quite similar to battle plans.

"Because we'll be operating in the heart of Midnight's territory, we're changing the usual spread," Hector mentioned.

"Exactly." Senna nodded emphatically. "All hunters except for the longscouts will be paired up and stay next to each other at all times. Try not use this as an excuse for a romantic interlude," she added with a sharp look at Madoc and Gethin, who both blushed.

"Shouldn't the longscouts be paired up, as well?" Enric asked. Senna shook her head.

"Midnight will have already moved close to the sounder, and the longscouts will be the furthest away from the pigs," she explained. Enric nodded. Senna took a breath and was about to continue, when Enric quickly spoke up again.

"I'll be Fenris's partner!"

"Huh?" Fenris blurted out in surprise and turned to look at the muscular elf. "What of Braith?"

"Pshaw, he's a longscout." Enric dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "He's light and quick. I would only slow him down."

"He looks like a shortscout to me," Fenris remarked dryly. Enric blinked at him in confusion for a second, before a hearty chuckle bubbled up from his wide chest.

"Long and short as in distance... but you already knew that. Be glad Braith wasn't here to hear your little joke," Enric grinned and winked at him. Senna cleared her throat to get their attention, then focused once more on the drawings scratched into the earth at her feet.

"We'll approach the sounder downwind then spread out in an arc..." she explained as Fenris paid close attention. Despite all of the etchings on the ground, it was a relatively simple plan, with the rebels split into four groups: longscouts, shortscouts, callers, and bludgeoners. Four in number, the longscouts were responsible for taking positions at the cardinal points half a league away from the foraging sounder of pigs. They would keep a close watch at the borders of the hunt and make sure that no hostile patrols could take advantage of the Fog Warriors who were focused on the hunt. The shortscouts would be much closer to the sounder and were charged with the task of helping the callers and blugdeoners find positions opposite each other, parallel to the general direction of the wind. It was then up to the callers to shout and clap at the wild pigs, hopefully drawing the adults toward them in anger, while simultaneously driving the piglets toward the bludgeoners in fear.

"Who's hungry?" Gethin piped up at the end of Senna's long-winded plan. Everyone around the campfire raised their hands except for the redhead and the newest Fog Warrior. And then Fenris's stomach rumbled loud enough for all to hear. He scowled as several of the rebels chuckled. Enric was mercifully silent, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Fenris slowly raised his hand.

"Well that settles it," Gethin said with laughter in his voice as he excused himself from the gathering and walked off into the fog. From the opposite direction two men stepped into view through the shifting mist.

"Almost done?" Arvel asked as he walked toward the campfire with Braith at his side.

"What did I miss?" The younger elf asked.

"Yes, all done," Senna smirked at her husband, then looked over at Braith. "You're on longscout duty, as usual. Just take the southern point and keep watch."

"And what about him?" Braith motioned with his thumb to Fenris.

"I have a name," Fenris muttered.

"He's going to be a caller, along with me," Enric interjected.

"Partners, even," Bryn murmured, then shared a smile with her sister. Enric gave them both an irritated look.

"What?" Braith turned to his lover.

"Senna said that he needed a partner, and I offered. Other than Arvel, he knows me the best, so it made sense," Enric explained.

"Mmmhmm," Braith murmured with a raised brow. He then surprised the taller elf with a quick kiss on the lips and a slap on the bottom. "I'm heading out now then. I've got trail rations, so I'll be fine without the pre-hunt meal. Stay safe, Enric."

"And you, Braith," Enric replied with a bright smile. The shorter elf waved to the rest of the Fog Warriors, then disappeared into the mist.

"What constitutes a pre-hunt meal?" Fenris asked Enric. The dark-haired elf motioned with his head to Gethin, who had reappeared with a large wooden tray balanced at shoulder level with one hand. In the other, he carried a small wooden stool. With an impressive flourish, he set the stool down and the tray on top. Piled on the tray was a wide array of fruits, berries, and nuts, some of which Fenris had never seen before. Enric saw the look on Fenris's face.

"Don't worry, they're all edible. Tuck in," the dark-haired elf said with a smile as he reached to the tray and grabbed a handful of fuzzy berries and a slice of starfruit. Other hands quickly grabbed for their share of the light meal, but Fenris remained still.

"Fenris, go ahead before our own wild pigs Madoc and Gethin eat your share!" Hector urged with a chuckle.

"Don't you dare throw food, Madoc!" Senna warned just as the elf in question had reared his hand back. "Throw anything else at Hector, but do _not_ waste food," she growled.

"Sorry Senna," the elf said sheepishly, then quickly ate the piece of fruit meant for Hector's face.

"Seriously though, Fenris, eat something," Enric insisted as he held out a piece of starfruit.

"I can't, not yet," the white-haired elf answered with an odd edge to his voice. He was hungrily looking at the food, but he made no move for the tray. The rest of the rebels had fallen into private conversations, leaving only Enric's scrutiny on him.

"Why not? We all heard your belly. You're hungry Fenris. How long has it been since you last ate?"

"I cannot eat... not until all have finished," Fenris whispered with a longing look at meal spread.

"Fenris..." Enric sighed with understanding. "You are _not_ a slave anymore. You can eat as you wish, when you wish... well, when food is available of course."

"It is forbidden," Fenris whispered with a shake of his head. He clenched his jaw and wrenched his eyes away from the food. "I will eat when all are done," he muttered with finality.

"Have it your way," Enric said with a shrug, in no mood to further argue with the recalcitrant elf. Minutes passed as hands continued to reach for the tray. Each time Fenris thought all the Fog Warriors were done, another would grab for more. The hungry elf watched as the edibles began to dwindle further and further until there was only a single, tiny piece of jackfruit remaining. Still, Fenris waited until all the Fog Warriors except Enric had gone their separate ways to gather materials and weapons for the hunt.

"Are you done?" Fenris growled at Enric who was looking at him with an infuriating air of innocence.

"Yes," Enric answered, his expression unchanging.

"You could have said something. Told them to finish and go instead of lingering so. Something so that I wouldn't only have one piece of fruit to fill my stomach," Fenris muttered as he finally snatched the last bit of food from the tray.

"Well, I didn't want to bring any attention to your predicament. And it would've spoiled this surprise," Enric grinned and reached into pockets that Fenris had not even noticed, since his focus had been solely on the tray for so long. "I saved these for you," the dark-haired added as he began to pile a portion equal to what he had eaten back onto the tray.

"I'm... sorry, I..." Fenris began.

"No apologies necessary. Just don't be mad at me," Enric beamed. Fenris studied the other elf's face and smiled ever so slightly back. He then turned to the tray and began to eat with gusto.

* * *

Enric and Fenris walked slowly and carefully through the underbrush of the forest. He was in his armor again after arguing that if he wasn't allowed a weapon, then this was the least they could permit for him. The Fog Warriors quickly relented, eager as they were to begin the hunt. Now, as the rebels closed in on their prey, he had proven as a silent a hunter as Enric, regardless of his garb.

A sudden birdsong ahead of them stopped both men in their tracks. Enric involuntarily placed a hand on Fenris's arm, then quickly removed it.

"Sorry," Enric mouthed. The tattooed elf said nothing, but when Enric looked away, Fenris lightly rubbed his thumb over the same spot Enric's hand had been.

The birdsong whistled through the trees again. Enric leaned over and whispered, so close that his breath tickled Fenris's throat.

"Bryn and Cerys are in position with the clubs."

"You could tell all that from the whistling?" Fenris whispered skeptically.

"Yes. It's not as hard as it seems. You'll learn," Enric said with a wink.

"I can't even hear the pigs, let alone see them," Fenris whispered harshly with a shake of his head.

"Good. The same goes for _them _hearing or seeing _us_. That's what our shortscouts are for. Gethin and Madoc are close to the sounder, possibly in the trees above them."

"If you say so," Fenris murmured. He wasn't so sure, but he tensed his muscles all the same. He watched as Enric placed a forefinger and thumb at his lips and returned with his own birdcall. Another one came in quick reply.

"See that tree? The one with the lowest branches." Enric pointed. Fenris followed his gaze. At first he couldn't see it, but then he noticed one with branches noticeably lower than the rest, quite a distance away. He nodded. "We go for that tree as we make our commotion," Enric instructed. Fenris nodded again in silence. "Okay, get ready..."

A piercing scream filled the air as a great rustling came from ahead, like something, or someone, falling from a tree. The forest erupted into squeals, followed by a feline roar.

"It's Midnight!" Cerys shouted in the distance.

"Damnit!" Enric growled and drew his shortsword. Both men raced toward the screaming, squealing, roaring cacophany ahead of them. Fenris and Enric nearly ran into a trio of juvenile tuskers who came crashing through the forest in their direction. Enric leaped to the side and fell to the ground, while Fenris spun in the air and landed in a kneeling position. The large, but immature swine were in no mood for a fight and kept running at full speed further into the forest. Fenris quickly pulled Enric up with him, then both continued their approach. They soon came across a clearing where the Fog Warriors were in complete disarray, shouting over one another.

"Don't let the piglets get away!" Bryn screamed in frustration.

"Madoc! Madoc!" Gethin yelled as another roar came from ahead.

"Bryn, next to you!" Senna shouted, as another scream filled the air.

"Gethin, above you!" Hector cried out.

Bryn chased barehanded after a tiny, squealing piglet, having dropped her club in the confusion. All around her, pigs of various ages and sizes were running around in total chaos. She didn't even notice the large black shadow race past her, so focused was she on the wild piglet in her sights. Bryn took a running leap and managed to grasp onto the squirming animal's hindquarters. The piglet's squealing doubled in volume as it tried to escape the determined elf's grasp.

"Cerys, get over here! I don't have my club!" Bryn shouted. Her sister was standing next to Senna a few yards away. Both were stooped over Madoc, who was completely prone. Senna shoved Cerys and pointed to Bryn.

"Don't let go!" Cerys yelled as she rushed toward her sister and the writhing piglet. A large adult male with huge tusks turned toward her and pawed the ground in preparation for a charge.

"Over here! Over here!" Fenris bellowed at the top of his lungs and ran in front of Cerys, blocking her from view. With a squeal of rage, the tusker rushed forward. Fenris turned and raced for the closest tree. He ran past the sisters just as Cerys slammed her club down on the piglet in Bryn's hands, instantly crushing its skull. Any doubts he had that the enraged tusker would keep him as its target were erased by the sound of cloven feet rushing right at his heels.

"Fenris!" Enric yelled in fright from somewhere to his right, but Fenris didn't dare look away from the tree he was headed for. The branches weren't very low, but it had a wide, flared trunk at the base. With his mind racing as fast as his feet, Fenris wagered that if he maneuvered just right, he could run up partly on the trunk, then jump for the branches. With a shout, Fenris reached the tree and executed the move he had played out in his head. He leaped through the air and just managed to catch the lowest branch. He swung up and over and saw the tusker charge right under him. He pulled himself up, then turned back to the clearing. His eyes widened in fright.

"Cerys! Behind you!" Fenris shouted at the top of his lungs. She had dropped her club and was holding open a burlap sack for Bryn to toss the piglet in. Neither noticed the large black leopard running right for them. Cerys turned and screamed in fright. She jumped to the side as Midnight pounced. He missed Cerys and crashed into Bryn, who shrieked as she went down with the leopard right on top of her. Only a split second passed before Midnight jumped away from her with the piglet locked in his massive jaws. He took off in a bounding run as Bryn rolled over and grabbed at the club her sister had dropped.

"Fucking, thieving cat!" She yelled as she tossed the club at the quickly retreating feline. Two boars squealed in fury and gave chase. All three animals disappeared into the undergrowth in a flash. So intent were all the Fog Warriors on Midnight's brazen theft of their sole catch, that none noticed the charging boar that headed straight for Enric. His scream stole Fenris's breath away as the white-haired elf turned from his low perch to see Enric already in midair from a mighty toss of the massive hog's tusks. He landed on his back, but barely had time to think before the boar was upon him. He shifted just in time to avoid being disemboweled by a sharp tusk, but in the process found himself completely underneath the berserk beast. He grabbed hold of the tusks and held on with all his strength.

Fenris jumped down from the tree and somersaulted into a full run toward Enric and the boar. He crossed the distance in a blur of speed. His lyrium brands pulsed and his right hand faded into silver-blue flame as he slammed his fist forward into the animal's torso. He grasped its massive, muscular heart and promptly ripped it apart. In a testament to the beast's ferocity, the boar continued to struggle for several seconds before it finally fell to the side. Fenris lost his footing and landed right on top of Enric. Both men just stared at each other with their twin pairs of green eyes. And then Fenris felt the beginnings of an erection from the man beneath him. Enric blushed bright red, which caused Fenris to blush in turn, even before his own cock began to swell.

"Enric!" Senna raced over, breaking the momentary spell. Fenris rolled away while Enric rolled over. Both men faced the ground as the redheaded warrior rushed over. She patted the dark-haired elf's back until he turned around.

"I'm okay! It only caught my breeches when it threw me. Barely a scratch!" Enric explained quickly. He was about to say more, but he was silenced by a tight hug from Senna. Her eyes were misty as she turned to Fenris.

"Thank you, Fenris! Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he said after taking a deep breath and rolling back over so that he faced the canopy. Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his gaze to the right. Madoc approached with a slight limp, with one arm around Gethin's shoulders for support while the black-haired elf held him at the waist.

"Madoc..." Fenris breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought-"

"Hah, so did I when I turned around to see Midnight perched right behind me in the tree," the short brunet said with a reassuring chuckle. "Damned sneaky cat! Gave me a fright and I fell right off the branch!"

"You're sure you're okay?" Gethin asked as he brushed a hand through Madoc's hair.

"Just a sore back and ankle. Good thing the ground is soft!" Madoc laughed again with a smile that brightened when Gethin gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

"Well, will wonders never cease," Hector mused from Fenris's left. The white-haired elf sat up and watched as the Rivaini man inspected the boar's chest closely with one hand, while the other checked an eye. "Quite dead. And not a drop of blood."

"How? How did you do that?" Senna said to Fenris in awe.

"Who cares! That damned cat got a piglet, but we got the biggest boar of the bunch!" Bryn exclaimed.

"Fog Warriors! Tonight we feast!" Cerys clapped hands with her sister and the two women whooped with delight.

* * *

Fenris watched as the circular fire grew higher and higher, the smoke mingling with the mist to fade away above. It was actually one of two campfires burning at the moment. The other was a short distance away. It was larger at the base, but lower in flame. It served to heat the massive boar that was slowly being rotated on a large spit by Hector and Enric. The large human had basted the beast's entire body with some mixture of Qunari spices, though he swore the style itself was Rivaini in origin. Regardless of the cuisine, the smell was driving Fenris wild. The combined scent of the roasting meat and the spices had him salivating almost painfully. Thankfully his stomach wasn't growling as loudly as before, but it certained rumbled here and there when he would glance over at the roasting spit. However, there was one sight that sometimes drew his attention away.

Fenris watched the muscles of Enric's arms and torso flex, then his gaze shifted downward to the solid, well-built legs, the curve of his rump, and finally the bulge at the front of the dark-haired elf's breeches. Fenris's cock twitched as the memory of Enric hardening right under him filled his mind.

"Thank you," Braith said, appearing next to Fenris and sitting down next to him.

"Hello!" Fenris said with a slight cough of surprise. His eyes then widened in shock as the blond elf leaned over and wrapped him in a strong embrace. Before releasing his hold, Braith kissed him on the cheek. Fenris was now speechless.

"Fenris, I know the two of us got off on the wrong foot, mostly because of me. I'm sorry."

"I... um..." Fenris hesitated, not expecting this from the usually snide elf at all.

"Senna told me what happened during the hunt. You saved Enric's life. You have my eternal gratitude for that," Braith said as he looked intently over at his lover at the second fire.

"And you have mine. For saving my life. I should have been more grateful. I'm sorry." Fenris replied, having finally collected himself. Braith studied him for a moment, with his eyes tracing over the tattoos on his arms.

"Arvel told me about those," Braith said vaguely, but Fenris knew what he spoke of from following his gaze. "I get the impression he was going to keep it a secret, but after what the hunters witnessed, that wasn't going to be possible any longer. Did you not want him to tell us?"

"No... I think... I think he was leaving that to me, I suppose. I just don't like discussing them much," Fenris murmured.

"From what he said about the process of creating them-" Braith stopped when Fenris winced. "Sorry, now I see what you mean. Let me just say this. Whatever you may think of them, they are a gift. Actually, _you_ are a gift. I was skeptical when I first found you, feverish and almost a meal for Midnight, but you managed to procure the largest meal we've ever had from a single hunt. Usually we get two, maybe three piglets, if we're lucky. As I mentioned before, even if we killed a boar, we wouldn't be able to carry it back without leaving a massive trail of blood. You solved that particularly problem quite nicely."

"I can do it again," Fenris insisted.

"No doubt. And that will be music to Senna's ears!" Braith chuckled. He then stood up and gave Fenris a bow. "Welcome fellow Fog Warrior," he said before turning to walk over to Enric. Fenris tried not to watch as Braith and Enric shared a long kiss. A feeling of intense guilt washed over him, but he did his best to school his features into a semblance of nonchalance.

"Fenris?"

"Hmmm?" He looked up to see Bryn and Cerys grinning down at him.

"Hector said the boar has a bit more time to roast," Bryn began.

"In the meantime, would you care to dance?" Cerys finished. A look of fright stole over his face.

"I... I don't... I don't dance!" Fenris answered with an adamant shake of his head.

"That is not a problem!" Both sisters laughed. "Just follow along!"

"But... but we have no music!" Fenris protested with a trembling voice.

"Arvel! Can you sing for a bit?" Cerys called out to the healer who was seated nearby with Senna.

"A tune suitable for a _saltarello_?" Bryn added, referring to a merry dance that had grown in popularity in the Imperium.

"Certainly!" Arvel replied with a wink to Senna, who brushed her hands off and stood up with her husband.

"I don't see any instruments," Fenris continued with his excuses, even as the two sisters hoisted him onto his feet and led him to the space between the two campfires. Arvel began to hum while Senna clapped her hands in time with the tune. Soon the rebel singer introduced a wordless melody that wove in and out with a few chirps and whistles, that his wife punctuated with rhythmic clapping. Soon it became a full a capella tune as Bryn, and then Cerys went through a few steps of the saltarello in front of Fenris.

Fenris took a step, then flourished with his arms just as the sisters had done. However, instead of stopping there, he spun around and continued with a series of movements that seemed to come out of nowhere. It was as if his legs held the memory, rather than his mind. The sisters clapped with glee.

"You _do_ know the saltarello!" Both women said as one as they spun around him along to the beat of Senna's hands and Arvel's melody.

"I..." Fenris's voice trailed off, as at this point it was obvious that somehow he did know the dance. He chewed his lip as his feet and arms took on a life of their own and he danced along with them. He swerved to one sister, bringing his body almost into contact, then twirled on one foot to do the same with the other. The dancing elves whirled around one another, and then in perfect unison, all three executed a quick series of leaping sidesteps that had the whole camp of Fog Warriors whistling and cheering. Fenris was so intent on the dance that he didn't notice a large fallen leaf near his foot until he slipped on it. He stumbled over, and though both sisters tried to catch him, all they managed to do was to fall right along with him. Arvel and Senna immediately ceased the a capella tune and ran over. The ground was soft and damp and none of the dancers were hurt in the least.

"We're okay!" Bryn said before anyone could ask. The sisters laughed as they sat up on either side of Fenris. The sound was infectious and before he knew it, Fenris was laughing along with them.

"Oh no! _I_ don't dance!" Bryn deepened her voice in an impression of Fenris's. He chuckled some more at that, then looked up to see Enric grinning down at him. His heart skipped a beat as the other elf extended a hand. He took it immediately and was pulled back to his feet.

"I didn't know you could dance," Enric said with a look of surprise.

"Neither did I," Fenris said honestly, but Enric shook his head.

"You're too modest," Enric chuckled and gave him a friendly clap on the back. "Well, while you entertained the rest of us, the boar finished roasting!"

More cheers came from the other Fog Warriors as Fenris turned to see Hector hacking at the boar's body with a machete while Gethin stood nearby with a large wooden tray. Large slabs of meat fell at odd angles, forcing the amber-eyed elf to lean over in one direction and then another to catch all the pieces. The tray was soon full and piled high with meat, while the massive boar itself barely looked cut into. To say there would be extra was an understatement.

There was a stool already set into the ground between the two campfires, but Gethin walked past it and approached Fenris. The white-haired elf look at the black-haired one in confusion.

"We give thanks to the boar whose gift of life has been passed along to ours," the shorter elf intoned to murmurs of agreement from all around. "We also give thanks to the hunter who made this meal possible. Thank you Fenris," Gethin bowed slightly.

"To Fenris!" The Fog Warriors all cheered together. He looked nervously at the utterly enticing meat.

"As the hunter who downed the boar, you get the first taste," Gethin urged. Fenris broke out into a cold sweat and made no move to take any from the tray. "Fenris, are you alright?" The amber-eyed elf asked as he noticed the shaking that had taken the other elf's body.

"Fenris, you can do this," Enric whispered as he stepped closer to his new friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"But... I am-"

"You are amazing," Enric interrupted him. Something in the way the handsome elf had uttered those words shook Fenris to his core. His resolve slipped and he reached forward to take a piece of meat in hand. He brought it to his lips and closed his eyes, half in fear and half in anticipation. The flesh was so tender, it seemed to almost melt in his mouth. The spices were exquisite and burst with flavor along his entire tongue with a medley of savory, sweet, and piquant tones. There was no angry admonition from Danarius, no screaming insults from Hadriana. Nothing but the incredible taste in his mouth. And when he opened his eyes, the warmth of expressions from all around him banished the last of his doubts. Gethin grinned up at him, then turned and walked back to the stool with Fenris right behind him. The shorter elf set the tray down, then took his own piece as the rest of the Fog Warriors crowded around and shared in the feast.

Rather than breaking up into private conversations, everyone seemed determined to sit as closely to Fenris as possible throughout the meal. Arvel began to tell a story of an Antivan princess in love with Tevinter slave. Despite the subject matter, it was actually a comedy that drew as much of its material from the cultural differences of the two nations, as the class divide between the lovers. Laughter came from all around Fenris, as he sat closest to Arvel. The elf could not think of any time in his life when he had been surrounded by so much mirth that wasn't steeped in cruelty and blood. When the story was done, the Fog Warriors began to depart for other areas of the camp, but not without giving their thanks to Fenris once more in the form of firm embraces, kisses on the cheek, and one loud smack on the bottom that he suspected was from one of the sisters. Fenris was blushing furiously by the end of it all.

"Fenris?" Enric asked softly as he stepped close.

"Yes?" Fenris's heart began to beat faster, though he avoided the other man's eyes.

"I wanted to show you something. Will you walk with me?" Enric asked, a slight tremor in the man's deep voice. Fenris looked up at that.

"Where's Braith?" The white-haired elf asked before he could stop himself.

"He left again on a long patrol," Enric said with a slightly embarrassed look that Fenris found equal parts irritating and endearing.

"Shouldn't we help clean up?"

"Gethin and the sisters have already offered to do so."

"But what about all the extra meat?" Fenris motioned to the still mostly intact hog.

"Senna and Hector always take care of salting and curing extra meat for storage. We would only get in the way," Enric assured. "Now, will you walk with me?" He repeated. Fenris looked at him carefully, but remained silent. Finally he nodded and allowed the dark-haired elf to lead him away.

The two men walked through the mist, which seemed to grow even thicker with each step. When Fenris turned around, he could barely make out the campsite.

"How do you avoid getting lost?" Fenris asked with a worried look over his shoulder.

"The trees," Enric answered with a smile. He nodded up at the moss-covered trees that surrounded them. "Each is different and serve as landmarks."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Enric promised as they continued through the fog. Slowly it seemed to thin out, until they stepped out of the mist completely. There were on a large rocky promontory that jutted out from the mountainside, as well as the fog. Fenris's eyes widened when he noticed that he could see all the way to the coast from their vantage point.

"The fog, why does it not cover this?" Fenris whispered in awe as he took in the sight of the lush tropical forest below the band of clouds, then the sandy beaches lapped by azure water.

"The shape of the mountain and the way it influences the wind," Enric said, then grinned and shrugged. "Or at least that's how Arvel explained it to me."

"And no trees to obscure our view?"

"It doesn't rain up here. The trees get all their moisture from the fog, but there's no fog here either, and thus no trees," Enric explained. Fenris nodded, then turned back to the incredible vista.

"It's..." Fenris sighed. "Words fail," he managed as he turned to see Enric looking right at him.

"I agree," the dark-haired elf said, though Fenris had a feeling Enric wasn't talking about the view.

"Enric..."

"I'm proud of you. I know how hard it was for you to take the first taste of the meal," the dark-haired elf interjected.

"Do you? Really?" Fenris asked skeptically.

"Well, maybe not exactly. My master had different rules regarding meals. I never ate in her presence, so I never had to wait for her to finish first. But she had other rules. Cruel, ridiculous ones, that often made no sense beyond delighting her sick sense of humor. So while our experiences may have been different in a particular sense, in a general one, I can empathize with you. All of the Fog Warriors can."

"Even the humans?" Fenris asked.

"Fenris, don't do that. Senna and Hector are every bit one of us," Enric gently chided him. "Senna was not a slave, but she served the same master as Arvel and helped him escape the night... well, the night he lost his arms. Hector was sentenced to death when he helped his elven lover escape from slavery. She died in childbirth and his son was stillborn."

"I'm sorry," Fenris murmured in shame. The sudden flare of anti-human sentiment had surprised even him.

"Do you not like humans?"

"I..." Fenris paused, unsure of what to think. His feelings for his master were a complete jumble at the moment. It didn't help that he was emotionally confused about the elf standing next to him. "I don't know," he finally muttered.

"We have plenty of reasons to hate many humans... but save your hate for the ones who truly deserve it," Enric said softly. Fenris nodded and turned back to look over the promontory. A shadow passed overhead and both men looked up to see a great eagle soar above them. It had white belly feathers, but the wings were dark grey. They watched it in silence as it flew in a wide, gently curving circle.

"I wish I could be so free..." Fenris whispered with a look of longing.

"Fenris, you _are_," Enric remarked, stepping even closer to his side. The two men did not touch, but Fenris was intensely aware of the other elf's body next to his. "We'll remove your collar soon enough, once you've proven yourself. Though, I have a feeling that most everyone at the hunt feels like you already have."

"Even without it, I'll still be a slave."

"Fenris, you are already free," Enric insisted once more.

"It doesn't feel like it."

"It will. In time. Just give it time," Enric said as he clasped Fenris's shoulder. Both men turned at the touch to look squarely at each other.

"We should get back to camp," Fenris said quickly. He noticed the look of disappointment on Enric's face, but the dark-haired elf did not argue. "Thank you for showing me this," Fenris quickly added. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Enric's expression lift.

"Thank you for saving my life."

* * *

"Are you certain about this?" Fenris asked nervously. The white-haired elf was kneeling on the forest floor, with his head resting on a small tree stump. He was surrounded by all of the Fog Warriors, excluding those out on patrol.

"Yes! Honestly, we would have done this after your first hunt, rather than your second... _but_ we didn't want certain people to get jealous that you lost your collar so much faster than they did," Enric said with a pointed look at Braith. The blond elf rolled his eyes.

"But my collar is steel, not iron!" Fenris protested.

"Senna's blade can cut through anything!" Bryn added.

"It's said to have been forged from the metal of a falling star," Arvel explained. "It was part of my former master's collection."

"Fenris, now don't move an inch," Senna warned as she placed her black dagger into one of two small loops in his collar that were once used to attach a chain. She wiggled the blade so that it penetrated slightly into the stump and stood straight up. Hector stepped up with a large hammer in hand. Fenris closed his eyes. No sooner had he done so, when there was a loud clang that stung his ears as his collar jostled painfully against his neck.

"Now for the other side," Senna said as she wrenched her dagger free from the stump and rotated Fenris's collar. She placed her dagger into the second loop and positioned it like before. There was another loud clang as Hector forced the dagger through the loop with a hammer strike, splitting the collar in two.

Fenris stood up to cheers and clapping around him and fingered his neck, marveling at the lack of a collar. He turned to see Senna smile at him with her dagger back at her side.

"That's quite a blade," he remarked with wide eyes. Senna winked at him, which for her was a supremely friendly expression.

* * *

Days became weeks and weeks became months as time faded from moment to moment like mist through the forest that Fenris now called home. He had learned much of the whistling language of the scouts, though he still had trouble producing some of the sounds himself. Along with the sisters Bryn and Cerys, he had taught several of the other Fog Warriors how to dance the saltarello, which became a bit of a tradition at the larger feasts. Boar became a staple of their everyday meals, with enough salted and cured leftovers to feed them between hunts. The longscouts still foraged for fruits and berries, but this was now done for variety, rather than necessity.

The days that weren't spent hunting were often filled with stories from Arvel, who had an endless supply. He was the most well-read slave that Fenris had ever met and his vocabulary was prodigious. Arvel had said that the greatest regret of his escape was that he had not brought any of his former master's books along with him. To Fenris, though, it seemed the older elf had committed to memory the entirety of the collection he mourned the loss of. Arvel not only told stories in Arcanum, the tongue of Tevinter. He freely spoke in Thedosian Common, and Fenris had even heard him speaking in what seemed like fluent Rivaini to Hector. At first Fenris had been embarrassed the first time he interrupted Arvel to ask the meaning of a word, but the scholarly elf had urged him from that point forward to always ask for a definition if context didn't provide suitable clues. Though he could not read, Fenris's spoken vocabulary in both Arcanum and Common expanded in leaps and bounds from his rapt attention to Arvel's tall tales and epic sagas.

Fenris found his time with the Fog Warriors to be one of contentment and peace... save for one glaring exception by the name of Enric. Fenris had never forgotten the muscular elf's reaction that day so long ago on his first boar hunt. Fenris often repeated in his head the moment he had fallen on top of Enric, especially on nights when the wind through the trees was loud enough to muffle any involuntary sounds from self-pleasure.

The dark-haired, green-eyed elf often disturbed Fenris's calm during the day, as well. Enric stood even closer to Fenris than Hector when chatting about everyday things. His embraces lasted a bit longer than Madoc's. The smiles he gave Fenris were brighter than Gethin's. His gaze was more direct than Arvel's. The kisses he placed on Fenris's cheeks after a dance lingered beyond those of the sisters. Fenris found the only way to keep from mulling over Enric was to either listen to a story from Arvel, or be in the midst of a hunt. Unfortunately, that still left plenty of time for the other elf to occupy his thoughts.

"Fenris?" A deep voice accompanied a hand that waved in front of his face, breaking his reverie.

"Yes?" Fenris blushed when he looked over to Enric right next to him. Both men were in front of Fenris's tent in matching green tunics and breeches.

"Senna mentioned that you were heading out on longscout duty today."

"I am," Fenris replied, though his throat was slightly constricted with nervousness as he avoided Enric's eyes.

"Well, you didn't even hear me approach so lost in a daydream you were! I hope you are more alert out in the jungle below," Enric said with a chuckle. Fenris furrowed his brows as he tried to will himself not to blush again. He failed.

"Yes, well, I was just going to pack a light meal and then be on my way," Fenris said dismissively and turned away. A strong, but gentle hand clasped his shoulder. A shiver ran down Fenris's spine at the touch, but he turned impassive eyes to the other elf.

"I wanted to ask you..." Enric's voice trailed off for a moment as he lifted his hand from Fenris's shoulder.

"Yes?" Fenris muttered with a bit of impatience, though inwardly he wanted Enric to step even closer.

"I'm on washing duty today. When was the last time you washed your set of armor?"

"I don't really think that's any of your business," Fenris said sharply. He instantly regretted the way he made Enric's face fall. The other elf was silent for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision.

"You're right, but you do like to hunt in it. Cleaner armor means less of a scent for boars to catch in case the wind changes direction during a hunt."

"I don't think it will really make all that much of a difference," Fenris remarked with a shake of his head, but Enric was undeterred.

"Fenris, I insist. When you get back from your patrol route, your armor will be cleaner than ever! Just leave it to me!" Enric insisted with a zeal that was a bit confusing. He had never known the dark-haired elf to be a fanatic of cleanliness. That distinction rested squarely with Senna. Still, it seemed an odd thing to argue about and Fenris didn't want to quarrel any longer, especially since less innocent thoughts started to creep into his mind and his breeches were already a snug fit.

"Fine, fine! My armor is in the tent. It's all yours!" Fenris threw his hands up and was about to step away, but then Enric grabbed him in a quick hug.

"Thank you!"

"Huh? You're washing _my_ armor. I should be thanking _you_," Fenris raised his brow at the other elf. "Are you feeling well?"

"Never better! Have a great time on your patrol! I'll just grab these..." Enric went onto all fours and began to retrieve Fenris's armor from the tent below. Fenris couldn't help but stare at the man's rump. He glanced away when Enric stood back up, Fenris's armor hugged to his chest.

"Bye," Fenris murmured as Enric gave him a final nod and a wave. When Fenris was out of earshot he grunted to himself and shook his head. "Just what I needed..." he muttered as the image of Enric's bottom latched onto his thoughts.

* * *

Fenris took a swig from his waterskin as he sat in the tall tree about midway to the canopy. He tried not to think about Enric on all fours, but it had become increasingly hard to do so, up in a tree, far from camp, with no one to talk to and distract his thoughts. Fenris shifted his legs a bit, which called attention to the raging erection he currently had. He had made it a point to never pleasure himself while out in the field, like Madoc was rumored to do, but he had to admit that he was sorely tempted to do so at that moment. Just when he reached for the drawstrings to his breeches, he heard a keening birdsong to the south. He froze. Braith had seen a patrol moving inland. The song continued. The information carried on the innocent-sounding tune caused Fenris to break out into a cold sweat. It was a Tevinter patrol, rather than Qunari. There had not been a single Tevinter patrol seen since Fenris had joined the Fog Warriors. Fenris placed his thumb and forefinger to his lips and gave one of the few whistles he could do convincingly and with enough volume.

_Danger approaches. Danger approaches._

Fenris scurried down the tree and began to make his way back to camp, defying normal longscout protocol. He was supposed to stay in the field and help track enemy movement, but Fenris had to speak to Arvel and Senna immediately. Though the Fog Warriors did not have leaders per se, as the eldest rebels, Arvel and Senna were the de facto decision-makers. No one begrudged them this role and Fenris knew they were the ones he had to convince.

_I will return for you._

Danarius's voice echoed in his mind as Fenris broke out into a full run through the hot jungle.

"Sanctuary, we have to go to Sanctuary," Fenris said under his breath as he raced through the undergrowth. Though Arvel had mentioned the Fog Warriors spending time there on several occasions, nothing had required such an action since Fenris's arrival. The white-haired elf prayed that this was just a random patrol and part of the Imperium's ongoing conflict with the Qunari. However, he could not shake the feeling that this was not the case. And so Fenris ran as if being chased by an enraged tusker and did not slow down, even as he passed from the heat of the rainforest into the cool mist of the Fog Warriors' domain.

Using the trees as his guide, Fenris raced through the fog until he came upon the rebel camp. They had heard his whistle and all were alert, including Hector who was now wielding his battleaxe.

"What did you see?" The Rivaini asked. Fenris shook his head.

"Nothing. I heard Braith's birdsong. It's a Tevinter patrol."

"Then why did you return from the field?" Senna muttered. "You know that's not how we do things!"

"Fenris, what's wrong?" Arvel asked as studied the elf's frightened face.

"I think... I think it might be my master," Fenris said with a trembling voice.

"Your _former_ master, Fenris. Never forget that." Arvel gently reproached him.

"We have to seek Sanctuary!" Fenris pleaded with wide eyes as he convinced himself that indeed Danarius was close by.

"If Braith was the one who noticed them, then they're nowhere near us. What has gotten into you, Fenris!" Senna snapped.

"Fenris, come with me," Arvel said suddenly. He gave his wife a sharp look, then led Fenris into the healing tent. "Sit," he commanded. Fenris instantly obeyed.

"Please Arvel, I have a bad feeling about this. We need to go to Sanctuary. Now."

"Fenris, Sanctuary is not something to be taken lightly. We only go there at the greatest need."

"If my mast... former master is nearby-"

"If. And that is a very big if. Sanctuary requires _certainty_," Arvel interrupted him.

"Why? What is this Sanctuary? If it is so safe, why do we not live there at all times? To do otherwise makes no sense!" Fenris raised his voice slightly, but a sharp look from Arvel brought it back down instantly.

"Because the spirit of Sanctuary does not wish it to be so," the sage said evenly. Fenris's mouth dropped.

"Spirit? You mean demon?"

"I mean spirit."

"It is a creature of the Fade! You made a bargain with such a being?" Fenris gasped.

"She has required no bargain, no agreement, other than we are never to enter her territory unless absolutely necessary. She has hidden us before and has promised to do so again."

"She? A desire demon then?"

"Desire demons are not held strictly to female form, though that is the most common depiction of them in literature-" Arvel began to explain.

"Arvel, you have placed the safety of the Fog Warriors at the mercy of a demon! And yet you think nothing of it! Even my master always treated demons with the utmost caution!"

"Former master," Arvel added dryly.

"Why did you never mention this to me before!" Fenris growled.

"You never asked," Arvel replied impassively.

"That's no excuse! You should know better old man!" Fenris shouted in anger. Sanctuary, the one place he had hoped that the Fog Warriors could run to was now no longer an option.

"That's it, get out! Right now!" Senna ordered as she walked into the tent. Fenris didn't need to be told twice. He rushed out of the tent, past several shocked Fog Warriors who had heard the shouting, though none tried to stop him as he ran by. He had no idea where he was headed, but before long the fog faded away and he found himself at the promontory that Enric had first shown him months ago. He sat down with his back braced against a large rock and wiped at his eyes as angry tears began to fall. He didn't even know why he was crying, but once it had started, he found it hard to stop. He wasn't sure how long it took, but finally the tears ceased, though his eyes remained wet.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Fenris quickly wiped at his eyes and did his best to compose himself before turning around. Enric stood several feet away, with a burlap sack held in front of him with both hands

"Well, you found me," Fenris muttered, though his heart skipped at the sight of the man.

"Don't worry, we're safe. Madoc picked up Braith's birdsong and relayed it to camp. The patrol he saw turned back to the south."

"What's that?" Fenris said, trying to cover the embarrassment he now felt over his earlier panic and subsequent argument with Arvel.

"First, tell me why you were shouting at Arvel."

"I... he..." Fenris blushed and tried to form the words.

"Yes?"

"He told me about the demon he bargained with."

"What are you talking about?" Enric's eyes flashed angrily.

"The demon of Sanctuary!"

"That is a _spirit_! Not a _demon_! Two very different things!"

"So you knew as well, but didn't tell me?"

"Fenris... I came here to give you a gift, not to argue about beings from the Fade. What you think is a demon is most certainly not. She is a benevolent spirit that has helped us in the past. She's indirectly responsible for saving your life, as without her, there would not have been any Fog Warriors around the day you were bitten by a centipede and almost eaten by Midnight."

Enric's angry words flowed over Fenris, but one in particular stood out in stark contrast to all the rest.

"You brought me a gift?" Fenris blinked in surprise and looked at the burlap sack in Enric's hands. The elf nodded and sighed.

"I had imagined slightly better circumstances to present this, but perhaps this will lift your mood," Enric replied as he walked over to Fenris and handed him the sack. The white-haired elf opened it to find his armor set. He looked up in confusion. "I didn't just wash it, if that's what you're thinking," Enric smirked and shook his head.

Fenris set the sack down and began to pull out the dark grey pieces. And then he noticed what Enric had done. Matching the color of his armor perfectly were long, majestic eagle feathers set into the various parts, most prominently along the shoulders of his chestpiece and on the edges of his bracers.

"Bryn and Cerys did the hard part. I'm rubbish at sewing. But... it was my idea."

Fenris knelt to the ground and just stared the armor that he now had arranged in a semi-circle around him.

"Oh... I knew you would hate it! I don't know what I was thinking! It's... it's-"

"Beautiful," Fenris finally whispered as he looked up and met Enric's eyes. "This is beautiful," Fenris repeated.

"You... you really think so?" Enric gasped with relief. The other elf nodded.

"Why?" Fenris asked.

"I remembered the way you looked at that eagle. The day of your first boar hunt. You said you wanted to be just as free. You are free, Fenris. I thought these feathers... I thought they might help you to really believe that."

"But how did you get so many?" Fenris stared in amazement.

"I've been collecting them ever since that day," Enric smiled brightly. Fenris couldn't believe his ears.

"That was months ago."

"I know. It took that long. Eagle feathers aren't exactly easy to find."

"I... I don't know how to thank you," Fenris said with a worried scowl. There was no way he would ever be able to manage something sufficient in return.

"Your smile would be a start," Enric answered simply. Fenris's heart lifted at that and he smiled as brightly as the other elf. He felt a surge of affection for Enric rise in his heart, and quickly stood. Fenris wrapped the other man in a tight embrace. Before he could get too comfortable in the other man's arms, Enric let go, which was a surprise, as it was usually Fenris who ended their embraces first. Enric was blushing, but then he turned around before Fenris could scrutinize him any further.

"I need to get back to camp, but make sure to thank the sisters, too! And apologize to Arvel!" Enric called out over his shoulder as he hurried off.

* * *

Arvel had been very forgiving. Senna not so much. Since the latter was with the former most of the time, Fenris was forced to avoid Arvel, which left him apart from the usual evening story circle. He did get a chance to thank the sisters for their fine work on his armor and they had immediately demanded that he wear it and pose for them at first light the next day. He promised that he would do so, then headed off for an early rest. Though he lay on his soft bedroll with eyes closed, sleep refused to come.

Gentle rustling just outside his tent immediately drew his attention and his eyes snapped open.

"Who's there?" Fenris whispered.

"It's me," Enric whispered back, his deep voice clearly identifying him. The flap to Fenris's tent opened and the dark-haired elf approached on all fours.

"What are you doing?"

"What I've wanted to all these long months!" Enric whispered plaintively and slid his chest up Fenris's body until he was face to face with the other elf in the low, one-man tent.

"But what about Br-" Fenris was silenced by Enric's rough, yearning kiss. Fenris could feel the other man's rock hard erection, which brought his to life instantly. Enric writhed into him, bringing their cocks side by side, but finally Fenris gained the presence of mind to pull his head away. "What of Braith?" He panted.

"He didn't get back tonight," Enric murmured as he tried to catch Fenris's mouth again. The white-haired elf turned his head quickly.

"Aren't you worried?"

"No. Braith is our best longscout. He's spent several nights far in the field. He's fine," Enric answered.

"But he's your-" Fenris could say no more as Enric's lips pressed against his once more. His tongue slid into Fenris's mouth and neither man said anything more for quite some time. Finally, Enric pulled away and looked at Fenris with hungry eyes. "Turn over."

"What?"

"Fenris, please. I want you. I want to be _inside_ you. Now," Enric grunted with need.

"Enric, no, not like this. Braith saved my life," Fenris protested.

"Don't speak of Braith. Right now, it's just the two of us. Right here, right now."

"No," Fenris said more firmly, though he made no move to push Enric away. The larger elf furrowed his brows, then sighed and sank down to nestle his head against Fenris's cheek.

"If I cannot have you, may I hold you?" Enric whispered, his lips ghosting over Fenris's neck.

"Yes," Fenris relented despite all his instincts screaming for him not to. He turned on his side and Enric scooted closer and held him from behind.

"Thank you, Fenris. Even this is more than I dared hope for," Enric murmured into Fenris's ear, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. Fenris pulled Enric's right arm closer and hugged it to his chest. The larger elf was true to his word and did nothing more than hold Fenris. Wrapped in the warmth of the other man, Fenris finally fell asleep.

* * *

Fenris woke first and slowly slid out of the tent. Enric was fast asleep and he didn't have the heart to wake him. He also wanted to delay the inevitable conversation they needed to have. Instead, Fenris gently pulled the burlap sack with his armor out of the tent, then began to put it on. He had promised to show the sisters how he looked in the altered suit, and he could use the distraction. Enric snorted slightly in his sleep, drawing Fenris's attention. He knew he couldn't leave Enric in there for anyone else to notice, but he hesitated.

"Fog Warriors to arms! Enemies in the camp!" Senna yelled at the top of her lungs, waking Enric instantly. He scrambled out of Fenris's tent, an act witnessed by many Fog Warriors who rushed by due to the alarm, though no one had the time or inclination to make any comment. There were shouts of dismay all around them as Fenris and Enric drew their weapons.

"To the healer's tent!" Senna yelled again. Enric and Fenris shared a nervous glance and ran toward her voice.

"Who are the enemies?" Fenris asked as he and Enric quickly joined several other Fog Warriors at Senna's side.

"Hello my little wolf," a voice called out through the mist.

Fenris's eyes widened, and he turned slowly. His heart was beating so fast and so hard that he thought he might faint.

"Fenris, it is good to see you again," Danarius said as he stepped through the mist. He was soon joined by over a dozen masked Tevinter soldiers. "Hmmm, that's an interesting change you've made to your armor," the magister murmured as his eyes took in the feathers that now adorned the suit he had given to his slave.

"Danarius..." Fenris choked on the name as warring emotions filled him.

"_Master_," Danarius corrected with an edge to his voice.

"Master," Fenris quickly amended as his entire body shook. He felt a terror like none he had ever felt, and yet there was also sense of relief at seeing the man after so long. The traitorous thought made him feel ill.

"Leave now if you value your life, magister!" Senna shouted as pointed her black dagger at Danarius.

"How did you find us?" Arvel asked, his arms hidden behind his back as he regarded the magister evenly.

"One of your scouts was so very kind to show the way," Danarius said with a feral smile. He nodded and the ranks of the Tevinter soldiers parted. Held up by a large soldier from the slave collar now attached at the neck was Braith. His lip was split and his face and bare chest were covered with bruises and burn marks. Most horrifying of all was the fact that the blond elf's right arm was completely missing, as was half his left leg.

"Braith!" All of the Fog Warriors screamed at the sight, but none more than Arvel who fell to the ground in shock, revealing his own injuries to the magister. Danarius smirked at the sight of the older elf's lack of hands. When Arvel lifted his eyes, he bared his teeth at the magister, even as a tear fell down one cheek.

"You will pay for what you have done!" Enric uttered the promise that was on the minds of all the Fog Warriors.

"Be thankful that he still lives. Barely. I'll admit, he lasted far longer under torture than I would have imagined."

"Master, please, I beg you. Do not harm them," Fenris pleaded as he sank to his knees in supplication.

"Fenris, cease your nonsense and stand up," Danarius ordered. Fenris immediately obeyed to the shocked looks of his friends. "A Qunari patrol with saarebas trackers is nearby, so I have no intention of wasting any more time. This rabble is hardly worth it and I am feeling rather charitable since they kept you safe all these months," the magister remarked with another nod. The soldier holding Braith stepped forward into the no-man's land separating the groups, then threw the elf's unconscious body forward. He fell like a ragdoll, causing Enric to scream in rage and grief as he hurried over to him. Cerys and Bryn were right at his side in an instant, though the rest of the Fog Warriors kept their eyes on Danarius and his soldiers. The magister looked away from them to gaze at Fenris with a look of pride.

"I promised I would find you," Danarius said warmly. "Now come along pet," he added gently.

"He is not your _pet_!" Enric roared as he stood away from Braith and the sisters. He stalked over to Fenris and stood side-by-side with his fellow Fog Warrior.

"Please master, I... I want to stay," Fenris whimpered.

"Allow you to stay?" Danarius sneered. "I would sooner rip the lyrium from your body and take half of your skin with it! Do you have any idea what those cost me?" The magister snarled.

"He is his own man! Not a possession, not a slave!" Enric shouted in defiance.

"He is _mine_!" Danarius's eyes flashed with crimson light.

"Over our dead bodies!" Enric challenged.

"So be it," Danarius snapped and looked at his prized slave. Fenris wanted to look away, but found that he could not.

"Master, please," Fenris pleaded once more.

"Kill them all," Danarius ordered. The Tevinter soldiers took that as their instructions, as well, and rushed forward. The Fog Warriors shouted and fell upon the enemy, with Enric leading the way. He instantly cut down two soldiers then thrust his sword right for the heart of the magister. There was a clang of steel as his blade was knocked aside.

"Fenris?" Enric stared in shock as the elf stood in front of his master with sword raised. In his confusion, he didn't parry Fenris's blade as it plunged deep into his belly. Enric opened his mouth, but only gurgled in pain as Fenris pushed him roughly off of his sword and joined the Tevinter soldiers in battle. His lyrium brands blazed, and though only armed with a shortsword, he cut down rebel after rebel. Blood and gore splashed across his armor and face, but he did not cease until only one Fog Warrior was left.

"Fenris," Arvel looked up, having remained on his knees after the shock of seeing Braith's injuries.

"Arvel," Fenris's eyes grew wide, even though the grip on his sword tightened.

"Make it quick. Make it painless. I beg you," Arvel pleaded with reddened, tear-streaked eyes. He then closed them and leaned back, exposing his throat. Fenris hesitated only for a moment, then swung his sword with all his might. It sailed in a wide arc and cleaved the elf's head from his shoulders in one pass.

"Well done my pet," Danarius called out behind him. Fenris looked away from Arvel's head and surveyed the scene of carnage. Bryn and Cerys lay in a heap together, both of their throats slashed. Madoc's bloody body partially covered Gethin's, whose skull was cracked open. Hector had fallen against a tree, disemboweled and missing an eye. Braith's body had a fresh, bloody wound across a chest that no longer drew breath. Finally there was Enric, who had rolled onto his back and stared up at the misty canopy with lifeless eyes.

Fenris dropped his sword and fell to his knees. He then lifted his head and released a scream of pure despair that echoed across the mountainside. The Tevinter soldiers all quickly backed away and even Danarius trembled at the raw, primal sound that ripped through Fenris's throat. Then the elf scrambled to his feet and fled into the mist.

"Fenris! Come back here! Fenris!"

For the first time in his life, Fenris disobeyed his master. He ran and never looked back.

* * *

Tears flowed freely from Anders's face as Fenris came to the end of his tale. Anders had taken to looking at the hands folded at his lap while Fenris had recounted his earlier days on Seheron. The mage felt like he had been privy to something that he had no right to bear witness to. He was having a difficult time reconciling the Fenris who utterly reviled Danarius with the Fenris who served the magister without question. Anders remembered how utterly despondent Orana had initially been when she was liberated from Hadriana. To imagine Fenris with such unquestioningly loyalty to a magister was a shock only eclipsed by the fact that the elf had shared this part of his past at all. It was as if Fenris had completely forgotten who he was talking to. Anders hadn't wanted to disabuse him of that notion, so he had kept completely silent throughout the duration of Fenris's story. Now that the elf was also silent, the apostate dared to look over.

Anders blinked his tear-filled eyes in surprise. The wounds on Fenris's face were noticeably better, with less bruising and a healthier tone overall. Anders recalled Fenris mentioning his quick healing, but to see such an improvement without the aid of magical spells was still unexpected. He had a sudden urge to reach forward and smooth Fenris's hair but the booming voice in his head stopped him before his hand even left his lap.

"_He is a worthless fiend!"_ Justice snarled within the confines of Anders's mind. The mage quickly turned away to hide the grimace on his face as the spirit within him raged. _"There is no punishment harsh enough for this level of treachery, not even death! How can you feel sympathy for him?"_

"_Thank you for clearing my feelings up,"_ Anders mused inwardly, finding himself indeed more inclined toward pity, despite the horrific ending to Fenris's tale.

"_There was a time when you wished all manners of misfortunes upon this despicable creature!"_

"_Times have changed, Justice."_

"_To our detriment!"_

"_He has kept our secret."_

"_For now..."_ Justice's voice trailed off into a hiss, content to leave that poisonous thought as his parting shot.

"You're crying," Fenris remarked softly, bringing Anders's eyes to his immediately.

"And you're not?" Anders whispered with a halting voice.

"I've cried out all the tears I could over this long ago," Fenris murmured.

"I'm sorry Fenris, I never knew," Anders whispered.

"You're sorry? I'm a cold-blooded murderer, Anders."

"You were a slave, Fenris. You were obviously bound to him in ways that I cannot even imagine," Anders insisted as he wiped at his wet eyes with the back of one hand.

"I cannot believe that you are defending me."

"Neither can I," Anders blurted, then wiped at his eyes again.

"And you have no questions for me? Surely there are things you'd like me to elaborate on."

"I... well... there's..." Anders hesitated, not really feeling that anything was a very safe subject to broach at that moment. He exhaled then finally said, "I need to think on what you told me. It's... it's a lot to take in." Fenris's right eye widened just a bit. The elf gave a little series of grunts that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, though Anders couldn't imagine what had caused the sudden mirth.

"Hawke said the same thing to me once," Fenris explained, but Anders still didn't see what was so funny about that. "I'd like to be alone now," Fenris murmured suddenly and turned away from the blond mage.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Fenris said gently.

"Alright," Anders said with a great deal of hesitation. Still, he did as he was requested and stood up from his chair. He looked out of the clinic's window to see the slivers of dawn on the horizon.

"Thank you. For listening," Fenris whispered, though he didn't look at Anders.

"You're welcome, Fenris," Anders answered. "Oh, before I go, I should let you know. We're roommates again," the mage said all of a sudden. At this, Fenris turned to him.

"I'm glad," the elf remarked with a gentle smile. Anders grinned back. The two men shared their farewells, then Anders walked out of the room. Despite everything he had been told, Anders felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest the moment Fenris had given him that parting smile. To be able to feel this after such a tale assured Anders that the coming days held hope.


	15. Repercussions

**Chapter 15: Repercussions**

A few murmurs could be heard in the darkness every now and then from Isabela's crew, but Hawke and his closest companions remained completely silent. Now imprisoned like slaves in the lowest cargo hold of the Dragon's Maw, the constant creaking of the ship's timbers, the intermittent clinking of heavy chains, and the sloshing of waves against the hull dominated their aural environment. It had been perhaps only a few hours since they had been taken at sword point onto the larger of the two Tevinter patrol ships, but it was impossible to tell for sure from the complete and utter lack of light.

There was a muffled groan of pain at the far aft end of the cargo hold that was immediately followed by the soft splashing of vomit onto the floor. There were immediate protests of disgust, along with a rustling of bodies and clanging of chains as the nearest crew members scurried away as far as their bonds would allow. When they found they could move no more, the sailors suffered in renewed silence, until a clear voice penetrated the darkness, with just the hints of a chuckle.

"Ah... I can detect a floral hint of anise, perhaps a touch of citrus... and the musty tang of old mutton," Isabela mused as if she were a sommelier evaluating a fine wine. "Must be Mitchum," she added with a subtle note of reproach.

"Apologies captain," a gruff voice with a Fereldan accent called out with an unsteady breath.

"You and your love of mutton, Mitchum! I _told_ you that it was on the verge of going rancid. When it tastes more like the bottom of a sweaty foot, you don't just cover the flavor with herbs and spices!" Isabela chided the unseen Fereldan sailor.

"Sorry captain," Mitchum apologized again.

"I don't think you're the one who ought to be apologizing right now," Varric muttered from the darkness closer to where Isabela's voice had emerged from.

"I already said that I was sorry," Isabela muttered. "I got the silent treatment, so pardon me if I didn't go on a litany of apologies."

"I don't think that wouldn't be such a bad idea right about now," Varric grumbled along with the sound of shifting chains.

"Is that what you really want?" Isabela groused as her own chains rattled from her irritated movements. "What about you, Hawke?" She called out with a raised voice. "You haven't said a single word since we were locked away!"

"Maybe he's asleep?" Merrill's lilting brogue came from Varric's right.

"Oh, I highly doubt that, Daisy. He's probably so mad that he doesn't even know where to start with our favorite Rivaini," Varric answered.

"Damnit, Hawke!" Isabela's voice went up yet another notch. "Tell a joke at my expense, insult my whorish ways, shout at the top of your lungs about how you wish you had never met me... just damnit, say_ something_!"

"Shut up Isabela. I'm thinking," Hawke whispered harshly in the dark.

"Thank you!" The pirate captain exclaimed with a loud exhalation of relief. "I mean, _really_... this isn't as bad as that time with the holy book of the hornheads!"

"What about 'shut up' do you not understand?" Hawke growled, but Isabela refused to be deterred from her argument.

"Because it was only Antivan fly! Or at least that's what I thought! I swear it!"

"Where did you get it?" Varric interjected.

"From that dwarf Javaris," Isabela muttered.

"Javaris?" Hawke's voice was tinged with disbelief. "You know as well as I do that he was given the formula for _saar-qamek_ instead of _gaatlok_!"

"How was I supposed to know that he would mix it with Antivan fly? I gave some to Anders, for Andraste's sake!" Isabela cursed.

"What?" Hawke, Varric, and Merrill all gasped as one. "Isabela, tell me you didn't!" Hawke growled in frustration as his chains rattled loudly.

"I did! But that's my point! I never would have given Anders some if I had known what it really was! I know for a fact that he had not been laid in _years_!" Isabela cried out as if that were the greatest horror imaginable. "I wondered if maybe Anders was unable to come to full mast... you know, after having Justice inside him for so long... I thought I might help _him_ after he helped _me_ with my little burning issue."

"You were on fire?" Merrill's asked, her voice full of genuine worry. That brought a couple of chuckles from the crew members of the Cormorant despite the situation.

"Yes Merrill, I was on fire," Isabela replied with feigned sincerity.

"So you mean to say that we've landed in this predicament only because of your boundless charity?" Hawke remarked with a cold tone.

"Exactly!" Isabela nearly cheered.

"Except that doesn't explain why you spent nearly all of my money for the Cormorant on a drug, which even _unadulterated_, can cause severely painful, prolonged erections, bloody discharge, and quite possibly death!" Hawke bellowed in anger.

"That's only for an accidental overdose. Anders is a healer. I'm sure he knows the amount necessary to avoid any of those unfortunate side-effects," Isabela protested, though her voice had softened considerably in the face of her friend's ire. "Besides, I only spent about half of your money. Had we been able to sell it, you would've seen a quadruple return on your investment!"

"An investment neither known nor requested!" Hawke shot back.

"He's got you there, Rivaini," Varric chimed in with an almost happy voice.

"Shut up you!" Isabela snapped. She was about to add something more, but was silenced by the sudden sound of the cargo hold's hatch being opened. The screech of unoiled metal hinges protesting their use filled the air as the darkness was pierced by a bright orb of pure white light. The brilliant mote descended down the stairs, remaining in front Magister Tacitus of the Dragon's Maw. The blue-robed mage was flanked by six guards whose heavy footfalls shook the planks of the ship underfoot.

Tacitus waved his hands and the magical orb flew away from him and ascended to the roof of the cargo hold. It was bright enough to illuminate the entire room, revealing the disheveled mass of people chained to the walls. The prisoners, long held in complete darkness, squinted at the light, though in fear, they dared not look away. All tracked the magister's slow, deliberate approach as he neared their captain. However, Isabela's nervous expression quickly shifted to one of relief as Tacitus passed her by. The man's next few steps brought him before Hawke, at which point he stopped and turned to regard him face to face.

Hawke looked up, then slowly got his feet so that his eyes were at an even level. The magister said nothing as he reach forward all of sudden to grip Hawke's chin. The Champion only resisted slightly as his head was turned one way, then the other as the cold blue eyes scrutinized his features closely.

"The captain of this vessel called you _Hawke_," Tacitus murmured as he withdrew his hand.

"That he is! The Champion of Kirkwall!" Isabela said excitedly. "Surely you've heard of him?"

"That I have," Tacitus's eyes narrowed, though he kept his gaze on Hawke. "We of the Imperium generally don't take much notice of rabble in the Free Marches, but yes, we have heard of Garrett Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."

"Then you'll realize this is all a big misunderstanding!" Isabela remarked with exaggerated camaraderie. "He has the funds to cover this little mistake of an operation, I can assure you!"

"Isabela!" Hawke snapped.

"Perhaps," Tacitus turned to the pirate captain finally with a clear smirk. "_If_ he were indeed the Champion of Kirkwall."

"But-" Isabela began, but the Tacitus raised his hand and turned back to Hawke.

"The Champion of Kirkwall is a man of noble stock! He defeated a Qunari invasion of his home by the Arishok himself, one of the three pillars of their heretical faith! He would not be traveling unannounced to the greatest nation of Thedas in the company of such a ragtag band!" Tacitus growled in anger and what seemed like frustration.

"I can assure-" Isabela tried again, but was interrupted once more.

"The slayer of the Arishok would not be in the company of Qunari collaborators! And he would most certainly not be without his favorite pet!" Tacitus shouted in a sudden rage.

"Oh, Rabbit is still at home! I don't think Mabaris like water," Merrill explained. The magister's blazing eyes shot over to look at the Dalish elf, who recoiled from the intensity of the gaze.

"I speak not of a dog, but a _wolf_!" Tacitus sneered at the elf's fear, then turned back to Hawke. "It is a fact that the elf known as Fenris is now forever at the Champion's side!"

"He is not a pet," Hawke muttered, though Tacitus ignored the comment. The magister looked around and gave a wide sweep of his hands.

"Among this whole crew, there is no lyrium-branded, brooding elf to be seen," Tacitus remarked before turning his cold eyes to Hawke.

"He _is_ broody, I'll give you that," Hawke quipped, though his tone kept an angry edge.

"He really is the Champion!" Merrill protested loudly, her brogue becoming even more pronounced from her fear.

"Be grateful that I don't believe a word any of you say, you filthy Dalish bitch," Tacitus said as he turned his malicious sneer onto Merrill, his eyes holding a clear promise of menace within them. "If you know anything of Tevinter, you know that true friendships among magisters are rare. An esteemed magister known by the name of Danarius was a dear friend of mine, and I have long thought on exactly what I would do to the Champion of Kirkwall _and_ his associates should they ever fall into my grasp-"

"Oh! You are sooooo rrrrright! He isn't the Champion at all! No... we're just random smugglers and-" Merrill began to ramble.

"Silence! I was speaking!" Tacitus roared. Merrill squeaked, but otherwise obeyed. The magister turned back to Hawke, bringing his hand back to the Champion's chin. "There's a spell I learned from Danarius, one so exquisitely beautiful in design, that I almost wept when I first saw it used!" Tacitus cackled.

"Do tell," Hawke dared in defiance. The grip on his chin loosened at the unexpected response. With a quick shake of his head, Hawke was able to wrest it away from the magister's gnarled hands.

"Many years ago, I saw it performed by Danarius on a young elf. A so-called Fog Warrior. We were on the trail of Danarius's little wolf, when we captured this other elf. So small and fiesty, that one." Tacitus scratched his chin as he mulled over the memory. "It's too bad that we were in such a hurry. Danarius's soldiers seemed quite eager to spear him with their cocks before finishing him off with their swords. That would have been a truly delightful sight." The magister's eyes gleamed at the recollection.

"You're sick!" Hawke spat in his face to the gasp of his companions. The magister's men instantly drew their swords while Tacitus stared at the other mage in shock. He then wiped the spittle from his cheek and backhanded Hawke with enough force to split his lip and bloody his nose.

The magister grinned as he waved the fingers of the hand he had struck Hawke with. A baleful crimson glow appeared between them as the blood flew from Hawke's nose and mouth to Tacitus's hand. The magister turned his palm up as his skin absorbed the crimson flow. He then began to chant in Arcanum, the harsh syllables punctuated with sparks of reddened energy. Without warning, Tacitus shot his hand forth and clutched Hawke's right arm at the wrist. He let go immediately and began to laugh.

Hawke gurgled in pain as he sank to his feet. His companions, as well as several sailors, gasped.

"What did you do to him?" Varric asked in fear. Tacitus kept his eyes on Hawke, though he stepped slightly away.

"I used the same spell on him that Danarius used on the Fog Warrior we captured so long ago!" The magister laughed. Hawke began to shake and writhe in pain as the veins on his arms began to glow through his skin. "His blood began to putrefy, starting from the point of contact," Tacitus murmured as he looked at Hawke, though the magister's mind was clearly on his treasured memory of what had happened on Seheron. "As the necrosis of the flesh spread, he screamed from the pain, though he refused to tell us Fenris's whereabouts," Tacitus laughed as he looked down at Hawke, who began to shed tears of abject agony from his glowing arm. "That elf lost his entire arm and half a leg before he finally broke and told us everything we wanted to know."

"Stop it!" Hawke's companions cried out as one.

"Then tell me the names of your Qunari contacts!" Tacitus yelled.

"We're not working for the Qunari!" Merrill screamed in fright as sickly, blackened blisters began to form on the skin of Hawke's cursed arm. His eyes were shut tight, though hot tears leaked from them as the pain from the blood magic continued to spread...

* * *

Anders walked along the wide, sandy street away from the clinic, lost in thought. There was so much to think on after hearing Fenris's tale, but things kept coming back to the elf's smile before Anders had left his bedside. The apostate could scarcely believe that he had come to think of the elf as a friend, but the harrowing tale that he had been entrusted with had cemented that notion for the mage. Perhaps Fenris didn't feel quite the same way, but he had at least admitted back on the Ataash that he no longer considered Anders an enemy. That had been a bit of shock, though nothing in comparison to hearing of Fenris's devotion to Danarius so long ago.

Anders had long been wary of the Tevinter Imperium. While ruled by mages, he knew better than to think of it as a paradise for his kind. He loathed slavery, and it had always been a bitter pill to contemplate that the one nation of Thedas where mages were free was also the one nation of the continent where slavery was completely legal. It turned the mage's stomach to imagine the indignities that Fenris must have endured to become so utterly loyal to the cruel magister. As these thoughts went through his head, he took a moment to marvel at Justice's silence.

Anders had expected the spirit to balk far more at the thawing in his relationship with Fenris, but other than his moment of fury at the conclusion of the elf's tale, Justice had been content to leave Anders alone with his thoughts. The mage idly wondered if Justice slept, in a sense. If not, it had to be an intensely boring existence for the spirit, but then again, perhaps spirits didn't experience boredom in the same manner as mortals. Regardless, Anders was not complaining in the least.

A patch of sand brought the mage's awareness back to his surroundings when his sandaled feet slipped just a bit on the cobblestone street. He regained his balance with a bit of a shuffle and kept a closer eye on the path ahead. The sun was still below the horizon, but there was enough light for Anders to make his way forward without much trouble. This was partly due to the ubiquitous white marble architecture of Meha-Shenaas, which helped to reflect what little light was available. The buildings appeared almost blue in the subtle luminescence of early dawn as the mage casually took in the sights of the town.

Anders had expected to be relatively alone at such an early hour, but already Meha-Shenaas had come to life, with Qunari of all races beginning their day's work. Tall, horned kossith women walked by with massive wicker baskets balanced on their heads, with only a single hand for balance. Their brightly colored skirts were still a stunning display even in the muted morning light. Elven and human women, dressed in the same manner, carried chickens under their arms or in wooden cages. A few soldiers, all men, marched close by. Other, unarmed men carried planks of wood and other building materials up and down the wide avenue. The blond watched as carts drawn by mules gave the familiar clitter-clack of hooves on cobblestone as they made their way to destinations unknown. The carts displayed a vast variety of cargo, from salted fish to exotic fruits, many of which Anders had never seen. However, there was one item that clearly dominated the town's commerce.

"Coconuts, always coconuts," Anders whispered, then took in a whiff of the sweet smell as two carts passed by. The one to his left was filled to capacity with fuzzy, unopened coconuts, while the one to his right held open vats of what he guessed was coconut milk. Anders turned his head to the right to follow the aroma. He was taken by a sudden yawn and stopped in the middle of the street to stretch.

"Hello there, viddathari!" A friendly female voice called out in a Fereldan accent. Anders turned to see a woman with tanned skin and light brown hair beckoning with a wave of her hand. She stood next to a stall that had clearly been jury rigged from a large cart. The mage hesitated for just a moment, but the expression on the woman's face held no trace of guile, so Anders heeded the call. The fragrance of tea tickled his nose well before he reached the stall, though the smell was far richer than any tea he had experienced in Ferelden or the Free Marches.

"Good morning," Anders greeted the tea merchant as he stepped up to the waist-high counter separating them. On it was a variety of empty clay cups, while behind the merchant were three pots of steaming water kept warm by a bed of softly glowing coals. Behind these was a large barrel of water and several burlap sacks.

"Shanedan," the woman replied with a smile.

"Shanedan," Anders echoed the Qunari greeting politely. "Ferelden, I take it?"

"In another life, but I am Qunari now," the merchant answered. "As are you," she quickly added with a friendly wink.

"Of course," Anders said with a nod and did his best to smile in response, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. The woman didn't seem to notice and motioned with her hands to the kettles behind her.

"I have the the three most popular varieties of tea here for your tasting pleasure!" The merchant exclaimed with obvious pride. "Fexian black grown east of Qunandar on Par Vollen," she said as he brought one tea pot from the coals and motioned for Anders to take a whiff. The mage nodded and indulged her. The merchant then switched to another pot. "Alaharran white found only in the hills of the isle of Kenemar to the north." She then grabbed the last pot with a wide grin. "And last but not least, our own local brew, Seheron green."

"They all smell incredible... but..." Anders scratched his head and hesitated. Though he had only imbibed the drink on a few occasions, the properties of tea were well-known, even in Ferelden. After spending the entire night listening to Fenris recount his past, Anders certainly felt the need for a boost.

"But...?" The merchant asked with a raised brow. "Viddathari, you obviously need it. So take your pick so you can start your day off in the best possible fashion," she urged.

"I'm sorry, but I have no coin," Anders said with a sheepish look, hoping that the merchant just might take pity on a newcomer to the island. The woman promptly laughed. Anders's expression fell. No such luck, it seemed.

"We Qunari do not engage in commerce with each other! I need no coin!" She exclaimed between chuckles.

"What?" Anders blurted out in disbelief. "That is... I mean... huh?"

"Here, take two cups. One Alaharran, one Seheron. The Fexian might be a little too strong for a newcomer like yourself," the merchant said as she began to pour the drinks.

"I... I don't understand," the mage shook his head.

"As a merchant, I make sure that all who request tea are provided with it according to their needs, balanced against the remaining stock, as well as projections of future shipments."

"How do you prevent people from just taking all that they want?"

"Few people would dare risk the wrath of the town guard," the woman replied with another hearty chuckle.

"What about the town's economy? This doesn't make any sense," Anders asserted with a supremely confused look.

"It will begin to make sense as you learn our ways. But for now, take your drinks and enjoy them." The merchant waved her hands at the two full cups in front of Anders. "You have a long day ahead of you. Adrian, your kenathari, will be introducing you to your preliminary tasks before your evaluation by the Tamassran," the merchant said with a smile. "When she returns to Meha-Shenaas, of course," she added. Anders noticed that the woman had mentioned neither Enric nor Braith, but the mage knew better than to remark on that.

"And where is the Tamassran now?" Anders asked as he lifted a cup to his lips.

"She is on Par Vollen, voting on the selection of the new Arishok," the merchant answered.

"Ow!" Anders yelped as his hands shook involuntarily at that bit of news, causing him to spill hot tea on his bottom lip.

"Careful viddathari! It's hot!" The merchant gave Anders a bemused grin.

"I should go," Anders said, then winced at how abrupt and rude he must have appeared in the face such generosity. He bowed slightly to the merchant in what he hoped was a polite gesture.

"Panehedan viddathari," the merchant returned the bow and waved with a smile.

"Panehedan," Anders replied, then turned away. He took a few steps and savored a sip from each cup after carefully cooling the surface with his breath. The flavor was so much richer than what he remembered from his infrequent experiences with the drink prior to Meha-Shenaas. There was a piquancy to the Alaharran brew that tickled the sides of his tongue in particular. In contrast, the Seheron green had floral hints that were concentrated on the very tip of his tongue, while providing a warm, almost woodsy flavor once the tea reached the back of it.

"_He will be hard to replace_," Justice intoned, nearly causing Anders to drop both mugs in surprise.

"_What_?"

"_The Arishok. He will be hard to replace_."

"_You sound like you miss him_," Anders replied with disbelief.

"_His ignorance of the nature of mages and the Fade was always troubling, but he had a clarity of mind and purpose I found most refreshing_," Justice replied.

"_Was that a dig at **me**_?"

"_Take it as you like_."

"_Are we remembering the same Arishok? I recall an ungrateful bastard who not only bit the hand that fed him, he ripped it clean off! He enjoyed the hospitality of Kirkwall, and look how he repaid it_!"

"_He recognized the corruption around him and was not afraid to take action_."

"_You sound like you were in love_," Anders quipped. The mage felt a sharp flare of anger at the joke, but Justice said no more.

* * *

"I will not stop at one arm! I will remove all of his limbs!" Tacitus shouted as the crimson glow from Hawke's right arm seethed brighter and brighter. Hawke screamed as the blackened blisters on his arm began to burst and his skin started to slough off.

"Javaris!" Varric shouted at the top of his lungs. "His name is Javaris! He's a dwarven merchant with close ties to the Qunari! He hired us as spies and mixed the saar-qamek with Antivan fly so that we could unload it on the black market of Minrathous!"

"I knew it!" Tacitus spun around and regarded the dwarf with a triumphant look. "The Qunari are on the move once more, but the Imperium is prepared!"

"Please stop hurting him! Please!" Merrill was now sobbing and straining against the chains in a futile attempt to reach Hawke. Tacitus laughed and snapped his fingers. The red glow on Hawke's right arm vanished. The blackened blisters disappeared, leaving completely unmarred skin. The tortured mage opened his tear-streaked eyes in shock.

"A simple illusion woven with a pain curse," Tacitus explained with a malicious smirk. "The pain our elven captive experienced was far worse. Be thankful that you are not Garrett Hawke, the true Champion of Kirkwall," Tacitus remarked as he placed a sandaled foot on Hawke's shoulder and pushed him roughly onto his back. "Otherwise I would have used the actual spell," he added, then stood over the brunet mage and spat into his face. Hawke didn't move, even to wipe the spittle away. Merrill continued to cry nearby.

"What happens now?" Isabela dared to ask.

"You all will be taken to Minrathous's torture chambers and the full details of your operation will be extracted. What I performed here was a mere parlour trick. An amateurish feat worthy of no accolades. However, the interrogators of the Imperium excel at their art. Indeed, they are able to charge quite a fee for curious onlookers to witness their fine work!"

Isabela could not find any words to respond to this and turned her head from the man. The magister chuckled once more. "Thank you for this preliminary information. It was a pleasure," he said in parting. The magical orb descended to follow after Tacitus and his guards.

"Hawke, are you alright?" Isabela asked softly once the hatch had closed, casting the cargo hold back in darkness.

"That's debatable," Hawe answered with a hoarse voice. "Thank you, Varric," Hawke managed to say after a pained cough.

"I'm rrrrreally, rrrrreally scared," Merrill's fear-tinged brogue stretched her words out even more than usual.

"Believe me Daisy, you're not the only one," Varric said softly.

* * *

"Mrrrow!" A familiar feline greeting drew Anders's gaze down at his feet.

"Well good morning to you, Mab!" Anders greeted his cat as she began to weave between his legs. "I'd pet you, but I've got two cups of tea in hand," he explained as he lifted the mugs for emphasis.

"Mrrrow," Mab replied and began to walk off. Anders grinned, then followed with a shake of his head. She was headed directly for their new home. After the commotion on the docks, Adrian had assigned all of the viddathari to a cluster of small, well-kept homes just a few blocks from the clinic Fenris was taken to. Adrian had told them that he would gather the viddathari in the morning for a tour of the town, though from what Anders had heard from the merchant, it sounded like the day would be a bit more active. Anders wondered if he might be able to take a nap, then scowled down at his two half-empty cups of tea.

"Maybe I should have thought things through before downing these," Anders whispered to himself as he pulled even with Mab. He could already feel the effects of the beverages. There was no chance he would be getting to sleep anytime soon.

Anders noticed movement ahead, which turned out to be a small group of cats lounging on both sides of the street. They perked up as he and Mab approached.

"Rrrrow!" Mab snarled, though she didn't arch her back or show any other threat display. Regardless, the other cats all scattered instantly. Anders had been concerned about how his cat would fare within the established _terenbas_ community of Meha-Shenaas. He chuckled at the clear sign that his worries had been misplaced.

"Queen of the clowder already, I see!" Anders remarked as they turned a corner. Mab was silent, but gave him a quick look of satisfaction. He remained quiet for the rest of the walk, which wasn't long. He finished both cups of tea and held them in one hand as he fished into his pockets with the other. Anders soon pulled out the slightly tarnished copper key Adrian had given him earlier and stepped up the short set of stairs onto the house's narrow patio. There were two mahogany doors facing each other on opposite ends of the porch. The house was split in two, with Lanreth and Tieral housed in the unit to the right, while he and Fenris had been assigned to the one on the left. Anders turned the key in the lock, then slowly opened the door, which swung inward. Mab ran in ahead of him. The mage stepped inside and closed the door with a kick of his heel, not bothering to turn around. The house was dark, but there just enough light coming from the four large translucent windows for him to see Mab in front of him. Anders bent down to scoop her up into his arms, when she suddenly raised her hackles at him and bared her teeth.

"_Kchsss_!" Mab hissed and spat.

"Mab!" Anders recoiled from her instantly before he heard movement directly behind him. Just as he realized the hissing wasn't meant for him, he felt a burst of pain as something large and heavy slammed into the back of his head, spiraling him into complete darkness...


	16. Exquisite Agony

_AN: I only recently discovered that the magister-ruler of Tevinter is known as the Imperial Archon. I've retconned the earlier reference to him (oops)._

**Chapter 16: Exquisite Agony**

Hawke slipped on the wet gangplank as he and his companions, along with the crew of the Cormorant, were led off of the Dragon's Maw onto the docks of Minrathous during heavy rain. He would have fallen completely had it not been for his wrist manacles that were attached to the massive central chain that ran between the two long columns of prisoners. Varric was shackled to the mage's left and tried to help his friend up, but there was little he could do due to his own bonds. One of the Tevinter soldiers marching alongside the prisoners linked an arm under Hawke's right shoulder. With a muffled grunt of exertion behind the dark mask, the soldier hoisted the mage to his feet.

"Thank you," Hawke remarked softly. The man said nothing in response as he let go and looked away. Hawke followed suit and looked ahead through the rain. Due to the incline of the gangplank, he was able to see to the front of the grim procession, which was led by Magister Tacitus and his three apprentices. While the soldiers all wore hooded, oiled cloaks in the manner also common in Ferelden and the Free Marches, the Tevinter mages all walked under floating, handle-less umbrellas that matched the deep blue of their robes. The prisoners were left with nothing but the clothes they had been captured in, which for most of the sailors meant only their breeches. They were all drenched, but thankfully the climate was far warmer in the north of Thedas. Though it was still only early Spring, the downpour lacked any of the cold bite found in all but the summer rains of the south.

Hawke found his eyes drawn to the man directly in front of him. It was the elf, Tindal, who had provided the mage with many a fantasy of Fenris in the same cut-off breeches, which were now completely soaked and clinging to the man's lithe frame like a second skin. Hawke couldn't help but watch Tindal's muscles flex in his lower back and rump as the elf walked. Despite the situation, Hawke found his blood pooling in his loins in sudden arousal. He wanted to hold Fenris so badly at that moment, that he let out a growl as he wrested his eyes away from Tindal. Isabela, who was chained just ahead of Varric, glanced over at him, but said nothing. The mage avoided her eyes and looked at the harbor.

The docks were still quite busy, in defiance of the weather. Slaves, dockworkers, and merchants of all nationalities and races milled about in raincloaks as they ferried goods to and from other nearby ships. To his Hawke's surprise, there were even a few Qunari amongst the masses. Some appeared to be slaves, but most of the horned giants were armed and seemed to be form several, disparate mercenary crews, most likely employed as guards for the wealthier merchants of the city. _Tal-Vashoth_, Hawke reminded himself as he looked at the large warriors. Only those who had firmly rejected the Qun could ever bring themselves to work for their kind's mortal enemies.

Hawke knew that slavery was not only common, but fully legal in the Imperium. Regardless, it was still disconcerting to see how the long line of shackled prisoners barely drew any attention from the crowd. In the south, there would have been a gawking, gossiping mass of onlookers probably double the number of captives. An involuntary shiver ran down Hawke's spine as he thought on how truly commonplace such a sight must be for the people of Tevinter.

The prisoners were marched forward at a quick pace through the docks, with most people scurrying to get out of the way as if they were at prime risk of becoming captives themselves. The only ones who didn't rush aside immediately were the Tal-Vashoth mercenaries, but even they didn't tarry too long. The central, wide avenue sloped gently upward toward the city proper, which was walled off, even to the sea. The tall ramparts were made from solid, dark grey granite that looked almost black in the heavy rain and matched the soldiers' armor and masks. Hawke wondered if the Imperium's preference for the color stemmed from the obvious abundance of the dark rock, which featured heavily in the architecture of the docks, as well.

The walls of the city were far higher than those of Kirkwall, or even Denerim, the capital of Ferelden which Hawke had visited as a youth long ago. The sturdy, unbroken granite bulwark was a testament to the might of Minrathous, once the capital of the entire continent. Even though Andraste's Exalted March had conquered the south of Tevinter, Hawke remembered how Fenris had explained that Minrathous and the north had remained defiant and free before suing for peace on rather favorable terms. Looking ahead and blinking his eyes from the rain, Hawke could see why. While the walls of the Imperial capital were indeed impressive, they were surpassed by the three gargantuan golems that stood before them and nearly as high.

"The Juggernauts... the three largest golems ever created," Varric whispered reverently over the rain at Hawke, noticing his friend's slack-jawed stare at the granite giants. He wasn't the only one. Merrill and the sailors of the Cormorant also looked up in fear and awe, despite the rain, as the procession neared the fork in the road that led to two separate, equally large gates. Only Isabela seemed unimpressed.

One golem stood between the harborside entrances to the capital, while the other two stood guard on the outer edges. Encrusted at the knees, forearms, and shoulders of each Juggernaut were gigantic, multicolored arrays of crystals that were clearly worth a fortune all on their own. Running along the arms and encircling the shoulders were bright, silver-blue lyrium runes that matched the color of the glowing eyes. Hawke was eerily reminded of Anders whenever Justice emerged. The brunet mage felt a pang of regret, which surprised him by the sheer intensity of it. He knew he had truly wronged Anders that night so long ago. Somehow he would make it up to his fellow mage. Even if he couldn't give his heart, Hawke would do whatever else it took to make amends.

"I heard that usually the Juggernauts are placed at different gates," Varric remarked with a subtle tilt of his head back in the direction they came. With all three golems gazing out to sea, it was clear who the magisters of Minrathous saw as their greatest threat.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually miss the Qunari right about now," Hawke murmured with a shake of his head.

"Silence prisoner!" One of the soldiers ordered loudly and shoved Hawke at the shoulder. The mage didn't resist and quickly shuffled his feet to regain his balance. He said nothing more of the horned invaders from the north, but his thoughts drifted to his memories of the Arishok. Though they had been rivals and ultimately dueled to the death, they had reached a mutual respect for each other. The Qunari leader had even taken to calling him _Basalit-an_. Hawke had taken it to mean someone who was regarded with a certain amount of esteem, especially relative to the utter disdain most Qunari had for those outside of their faith. The duel had been fierce, though the Arishok had not seemed surprised in the least when Hawke revealed his magic. He had guessed the Qunari leader had known all along, which made the title of _Basalit-an_ even more unexpected in retrospect.

Hawke felt an unpleasant tingle in his right arm. It was still sore from the pain curse that Tacitus had used. Hawke narrowed his eyes at the memory. For all of the Arishok's faults, the apostate was convinced that the Qunari leader would never have stooped to such base torture. Though he slew the Viscount, Hawke had no doubt that the killing blow had been quick and free of the malicious sadism that Tacitus clearly enjoyed.

The prisoners reached the fork in the road and could no longer stare at the nearby juggernauts without straining their necks and exposing their eyes fully to the rain. The avenues to the left and right were equally wide, but the one on the left was far less traveled. While the vast majority of merchants hauled their canvas-covered cargo from the harbor toward the right gate, only a select few chose the left road that Tacitus and his soldiers led the prisoners on. Though the gate ahead dealt with fewer travelers, it seemed to have twice as many guards, including several mages in dark grey robes.

Tacitus walked under the great arch of the gate and stopped before a stern-faced woman, whose thin build made her look almost like an elf, were it not for her prodigious height. She was an inch taller than Tacitus and look down with an impassive stare. She had an almost reptilian look about her in the way she did not blink at all. The blue-robed magister of the Dragon's Maw waved his right hand and painted a glowing blue sigil that hovered before him. The guardian-mage traced the lines of light with one finger, then waved her hand to banish it from sight. She nodded and stepped back. Tacitus continued forward with the prisoners in tow, giving them a momentary respite from the rain while they traversed the large tunnel through the city walls.

The city of Minrathous was certainly impressive, at least in terms of its architecture. Many of the buildings were several stories high, with ornate parapets and pillared entrances. A few of the taller homes had mahogany bridges spanning between them high above the ground, all inlaid with precious jewels that beckoned the eye even in the dim light of a rainy morning

Hawke wondered how such wealth could be displayed so openly without fear of thievery, then he remembered the vile curse Tacitus had placed on him. He looked down and clenched his shackled fist from the troubling recollection, then looked back up at the bejeweled bridges and homes. The gems were probably protected by hexes as malevolent as the one he had experienced, if not worse.

Another difference that Hawke quickly noticed between Minrathous and all the other cities and towns he knew was the sheer number of statues, big and small, that could be seen everywhere. Incredibly detailed likenesses of people and beasts were used to decorate everything from the fountains that seemed to dot every other street corner, to the walls of homes and businesses.

Towering above all else in the capital was the Tower of Magi. Like the walls, it was fashioned from grey granite, though it was far more colorful due to the golden gilt, stained glass windows that ringed every floor. Hawke remembered how, as children, he and Bethany had wished that their family could move to Tevinter one day. His father had admonished them both and told them that the Imperium was largely to blame for their situation. Father Hawke had insisted that the excesses of the mages of Tevinter bolstered much of the hatred against their kind outside of the Imperium. Though Hawke had come around to his father's way of thinking long ago, seeing Minrathous with his own eyes cemented his belief that the Imperium could never be called home.

_Magic must serve man, not rule over him. _The words of Andraste came to mind, heard from the lips of many over the course of Hawke's life. Here in Tevinter, the Chant of Light's scriptures were interpreted very differently. Everywhere he looked, he could see magisters attended by slaves in some capacity. Whether carrying umbrellas for those who did not or could not use the spells that Tacitus utilized, or carrying heavy goods for purposes and destinations unknown, the magisters seemed to leave anything even remotely physical in nature to their elf slaves. What sickened Hawke even more was that the few elf magisters that he noticed seemed to regard their elven slaves in exactly the same manner. Despite his wishes to the contrary, he couldn't help but think of Varania, Fenris's duplicitous sister. Hawke had felt a shred of pity for her when he had convinced Fenris to spare her life. Seeing elves treating others of their kind with such disdain made him seriously doubt his choice of mercy.

Hawke noticed a pair of men sharing an umbrella close by. They were in a conversation that was muffled by the rain. Though they both wore richly tailored green robes worthy of magisters, there were no slaves to be seen around them. They did not magically suspend their single umbrella in the air, but rather, the taller of the pair held it aloft for both. The larger man was a brunet, while the shorter was a blond. The darker-haired man looked over his companion's shoulder, causing the blond to turn around. Hawke met his eyes and instantly recognized him, despite the rain and the change three years had wrought on the face of someone he had known first as an adolescent.

"Hawke?" Feynriel gasped in surprise. The half-elf had the same delicate cheekbones and inquisitive eyes, but he now had the face of a man, not a boy. Hawke immediately averted his gaze, even as his heart filled with dread. Feynriel was supposed to be in Solas at the southern edge of the Imperium. "Hawke? Is that you?" Feynriel repeated in a louder voice as he approached, with the other man making sure to stay close and shield his companion from the rain. When Hawke didn't respond, Feynriel raised his voice even more and uttered, "Garrett Hawke! It's me, Feynriel! What's going on here?"

"Halt!" Tacitus shouted from the front of the procession of prisoners. Hawke cringed and turned frightened eyes to the fellow apostate he had saved three years prior. He shook his head sharply hoping that Feynriel would get the hint. The blond furrowed his brows, then looked over to see Merrill, Varric, and Isabela. He clearly recognized them, but this time he remained silent. Tacitus walked up to the two men under the umbrella with a grim look. Feynriel shrank back a bit, but the taller man stood his ground.

"What did you call this man?" Tacitus asked with a suspicious glare.

"Are the magisters of Minrathous so free of manners that they would speak to a peer or his apprentice without any introduction whatsoever?" The brunet remarked with a smile that convinced no one.

"My apologies, citizen," Tacitus said as he adopted the other man's expression. "Magister Tacitus of Minrathous," he added with a curt nod.

"Magister Aurelius of Solas," the darker-haired man replied. Neither magister made any attempt to extend their hands. Aurelius turned to his blond companion. "And this is my apprentice, Feynriel."

"Well met," Tacitus said with a bristling tone that revealed his true sentiments. Feynriel only nodded in response. He looked over at Hawke, who avoided his eyes once more. Tacitus followed his gaze. "You called this man Garrett Hawke, did you not?" The blue-robed magister demanded.

"I'm sorry. I was mistaken." Feynriel quickly shook his head and kept his eyes squarely on the hostile magister. "It's hard to see through all this rain. He's not the man I thought he was."

"No... he isn't, is he?" Tacitus sneered. His eyes shifted back and forth between Feynriel and Aurelius. "Well, I should be off. Magisters of esteemed _Solas_ shouldn't have their presence sullied with prisoners such as these," he added with a note of sarcasm for the smaller city on the outskirts of the Imperium.

"What did they do?" Feynriel asked with a nervous glance at Hawke.

"Oh, do not worry yourself with such unsavory matters young apprentice. Just know that justice will be served. Good day to you both," Tacitus said before turning to Hawke with a look of surprise that quickly shifted into one of malevolent glee.

* * *

"_Anders_!" Justice's voice called out, though it lacked the usual force and sounded far away.

"_Hmmm_...?" Anders didn't really feel like talking to his closest companion at the moment, especially since they rarely had friendly conversations of late.

"_Wake up_!" Justice demanded, though it didn't sound quite like anger behind the spirit's voice. That was odd.

"_Must I? It feels so peaceful here_," Anders protested in the comforting darkness that surrounded him. All of his concerns seemed so distant and inconsequential at the moment. Leave it to Justice to ruin his calm.

"_We are in grave danger_!" The spirit's voice echoed with fear. Anders's thoughts on peace and quiet came to an abrupt halt at the foreign emotion from presence within. Anger, yearning, and satisfaction seemed to be the only three emotions that the mage ever felt from Justice. To feel fear emanating from the spirit was completely new and wholly unwelcome. He felt his own fear rise to match, which seemed to break him from his haze. Recent memories began to flood back into his mind as he remembered entering the home along with Mab and witnessing her reaction to something unseen.

"_Justice, do something_!" Anders pleaded as he recalled the moment he had lost consciousness.

"_I cannot,_" the spirit replied.

"_What? This isn't the time to play games Justice! I... I... could be dying right now! Take possession of my body! You've done it plenty of times when I didn't want you to. This time, I'm begging you to do so!_"

"_I cannot_," Justice repeated. Before Anders could say anything in response, the spirit continued. "_There is something blocking my power. I know not what it is, but at present, I cannot emerge through your body_."

"_Try harder!_"

"_I have tried, my friend. Even speaking to you like this has strained me beyond what I am accustomed to_," Justice remarked, his voice sounding even weaker and more distant than before. "_Anders, I am sorry... I must rest..._"

"_No! Justice! Stay with me! I need you!_" Anders demanded. There was no response. "_Justice!_" Anders screamed within the dark confines of his mind.

* * *

Fenris had no idea how long he had stared at the curtains in front of him after Anders had left. He considered that for a moment and turned to the window, but the light gave no real indication of the time of day due to the rain. Fenris didn't even remember when the tropical shower had started, but he immediately hoped that Anders had not been caught in it without some sort of cover.

Fenris sighed and wiped an errant snowy lock from his brow with his left hand. Anders had completely surprised him at the conclusion of his tale. He had expected horror, anger, and clear disgust. Fenris even welcomed that, hoping that it might bring some comfortable familiarity back into play between them. He found this... odd truce a bit unsettling. To see Anders crying while withholding any judgement was uncomfortable, as was the notion that this mage, this apostate, this _abomination_ was beginning to feel like a friend. Fenris tried to remind himself of all the reasons why he had hated Anders so much in past, but they all seemed to fall by the wayside as he remembered with startling clarity the tracks that the tears had made as they ran down the blond mage's face.

Fenris had said he wanted to be alone and that had been true for however long he had stared at his curtains in absolute silence. But now he had a sudden need to just be in the other man's presence. He threw the sheets off of his bed then swung his legs over the edge and stood up carefully. Fenris remembered well the aftereffects of the Qunari sedative, and braced himself for any unsteadiness. Luckily, it seemed that the concoction had long worked its way out of his system. He felt wide awake and alert as he began to walk toward the door. Due to the sound of the rain, he didn't hear the voices on the other side of the door until he reached for the knob. Before his fingers could close on it, the door swung outward to reveal the healer and the kenathari of Rivaini descent.

"Why are you out of bed!" The healer's utterance was less of a question and more of an angry demand. He poked at Fenris's chest, but the elf nimbly stepped backward before the finger could make contact. The healer marched into the room with the kenathari following closely behind.

"I'm feeling much better now," Fenris insisted.

"I'll be the judge of that!" The healer growled, though his eyes were already scanning over Fenris's many injuries from the night before. He reached forward to brush a thumb lightly over the elf's left cheek. Fenris turned his head away slightly, but the healer closed the distance and maintained contact.

"You look far better than when you first arrived," the Rivaini man remarked with a look of surprise.

"Yes Adrian, he does," the healer agreed gruffly. "I didn't expect him to be able to open his left eye so soon," the healer added.

"You make it sound as if that's bad news, Martus," Adrian chuckled softly. Fenris blinked both eyes in surprise. He didn't even realize when the left one had opened again.

"Hmph," the healer muttered and continued to scrutinize his patient. "You heal fast. Faster than most, don't you?" He asked as his eyes followed the lines of Fenris's lyrium tattoos.

"Yes," Fenris replied, feeling it pointless to lie.

"No doubt a legacy of the magic that left these on your skin," the healer mused. Fenris nodded. "The healer of the Ataash sent me a detailed report of the injuries to your arm... but..." he paused and scratched his chin. He turned to the other human. "Adrian, may I have a moment?"

"Certainly Martus. I'm in no rush. I've decided to let all the viddathari sleep until the rain passes." The Rivaini man nodded as he and the healer turned their eyes back to Fenris.

"I just want to check your arm," Martus said as he helped Fenris pull the sling strap over his head, freeing his right arm. "Now tell me if you feel any pain," the healer urged as he gently began to move Fenris's arm in several different directions while bending it at the elbow.

"Ow. Right there." Fenris winced. Martus paused.

"And what about this?" The healer gently began to rotate Fenris's palm.

"Ouch!" Fenris involuntarily tried to yank his hand away, but the other man held firm.

"Hmmm..."

"Yes?" Fenris gave him a worried look. "Worse than you thought?"

"Quite the opposite actually. You suffered injuries to your arm that would normally require immobilization from six to eight weeks. It's only been what? Little over a week since you were rescued from the slavers?" Martus scratched his head.

"I'm not exactly sure," Fenris replied with a shrug

"For now, I'd like you to continue wearing the sling most of the time, but you may remove it for certain, non-strenuous activities," Martus remarked. "Like bathing, when you need to keep the gauze around your splints dry. No need for an attendant washing you like a baby." The healer snorted in what must have been his version of a chuckle while Fenris blushed ever so slightly. "In a week's time, if all goes as well as it has already, we'll remove the splints and you'll be as good as new."

"Thank you," Fenris said with utter sincerity.

"But remember, keep the sling on more often than not! Especially when you sleep!" The healer decreed sharply as he helped Fenris slip it back on. Satisfied with the emphatic nod that the elf gave him, he stepped aside for Adrian.

"I didn't expect to find you already awake, but I'm glad that you are. We didn't have a chance to officially meet. I'm Adrian," the raven-haired man said as he extended his right hand. Fenris paused for a moment, then extended his left. "Oh, sorry," the Rivaini quickly said as he switched hands so that he could easily grasp the only one Fenris could offer.

"Fenris."

"I must apologize for that... unpleasantness last night, Fenris," Adrian began. Though the elf winced, he continued. "Never have we experienced such an introduction of the viddathari to Meha-Shenaas. I will make sure that nothing of the sort ever happens again."

"I'd rather not talk about that right now," Fenris remarked gruffly. The kenathari nodded.

"As you wish, but let me be very clear on where I stand," Adrian said with a firm set of his jaw. "Whoever you were in the past is irrelevant now. As instructed by the Qun, my concern is with who you are now. You arrived here with the recommendation of both the captain and sten of the Ataash. The latter is particularly hard to please. No matter what you've done before stepping foot in Meha-Shenaas, I am your friend in the faith."

"Thank you," Fenris replied politely, though he was beginning to shift slightly on his feet. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'd like to find my friend." The elf barely paused at the last word. "He said that we were assigned to the same room, but I don't know where that it is."

"Ah! That's actually why I stopped by to visit," Adrian said with a grin as he reached into a front pocket, then held up a copper key. "This is yours." The dark-haired man reached forward and placed it in Fenris's left hand. "Your new home is not that far away. If you're truly feeling well, I'd be happy to escort you there."

"Yes, please. You have my thanks," Fenris replied with an eager nod. He glanced over at Martus. "And thank you, as well."

"You healed mostly on your own," the healer said with a shrug. "I'll see you in a week." He didn't even bother to wave at Fenris as the elf followed the kenathari out of the clinic. The two men stopped at the covered patio while Adrian unfurled a bamboo umbrella.

"You made quite an impression on Martus," Adrian said with a grin.

"What makes you say that?" Fenris gave him a look of disbelief.

"He made an actual effort to be nice to you."

"If that's a true effort, I'd hate to see when there's none," Fenris remarked as he glanced around for a spare umbrella.

"I only brought one, but it's large enough for both of us," Adrian offered with a subtle shake of the umbrella. Fenris nodded and stepped closer to the man, then together they walked into the rain.

Fenris watched the people of Meha-Shenaas carry on with their work despite the weather. It was no surprise. People living in the tropics got used to the rain. Indeed, there were several individuals who didn't even bother with a cloak or umbrella.

"That was kind of you to delay the tour of the town for us viddathari," Fenris said as he sidestepped a small puddle.

"Southerners aren't used to the rain. While they'll need to get acclimated to it eventually, I felt that after last night, everyone could use a bit of rest until the weather improves," Adrian answered as he stepped over another puddle with Fenris. The elf nodded, then turned his attention again to the people around them.

The populace of Meha-Shenaas wasn't all that different from what he had experienced in the Imperium, at least at first glance. There were people of all kinds going about their daily lives. Naturally, the presence of so many Qunari was a change, since Imperial settlements only had a few kossith, mostly Tal-Vashoth mercenaries. But as Fenris studied his surroundings more closely, he began to discern even greater contrasts between the civilization of his birth and the one in which he now lived.

Fenris first noticed that there were no conspicuous signs of a privileged class of people. Most men were bare-chested and wore the same style of tan breeches. Women wore swaths of light-colored cloth around their chests that were offset by the brightly-dyed skirts that invariably flowed past their knees. There were small differences according to profession, the starkest being the garb of soldiers, with their added leather straps for sheaths and scabbards. However, the sartorial divisions that were clear and entrenched in Tevinter society simply were not present in any meaningful way here, at least as far as the elf could tell. Fenris, while quite familiar with the Qunari lack of both magisters and slaves, had never known about the apparent lack of rich and poor, as well.

Fenris then began to notice the expressions of the people he walked past. Here lay the biggest difference as far as the elf was concerned. While true smiles seemed to be somewhat rare amongst the Qunari of all races, they nevertheless appeared to be quite content. Expressions of serenity and peace could be seen everywhere. Faces filled with anxiety and fear, so common in Tevinter, were completely absent. Fenris found it all vaguely unsettling. To think that the entire town existed in such a state of equanimity was completely foreign for the elf. He had to wonder if it was simply because the Qunari knew how to hide their emotions better than even the most duplicitous of magisters.

"Is everything well?" Adrian asked, interrupting Fenris's thoughts.

"Yes," Fenris lied and did his best to school his features into a semblance of calm and composure.

"I know adjusting to Qunari society can be difficult, but that's what kenathari are for. I am here to listen to your concerns and hopefully answer any questions you might have," Adrian offered.

"Are you truly happy here?" Fenris asked before he could stop himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a group of soldiers ahead, but he had seen several such groups, so he paid them no heed.

"Absolutely," Adrian answered without pause. The speed of the answer prompted Fenris to continue.

"And were you happy before coming here?" The elf pressed as he and Adrian neared the regiment of warriors walking in the opposite direction.

"No. Though at the time I didn't realize just how wretched my existence was before the Qun."

"Wretched..." Fenris mulled over that word as his brows furrowed. "That describes my life... with a few exceptions..." the elf paused as memories of his life with Hawke flashed in his mind: the night they first met, the first kiss they shared after a heated argument, the night they first made love. And then completely unbidden, an image of Anders trying to play fetch with Mab interrupted the stream of thoughts centered on his lover. Before Fenris could even process that, a familiar voice intruded on the conversation.

"Yes. _Wretched_ is what you are and will always be."

"Sten!" Adrian narrowed his eyes and placed a hand on Fenris's shoulder as he stepped slightly ahead of the elf. While the rest of the soldiers wore oiled cloaks, Sten wore no covering and simply let the rain fall over him. The soldiers had been walking at a brisk pace, but as soon as their leader had stopped, so too did they.

"You..." Fenris blinked as he looked at the scar across Sten's face. All thoughts of Hawke and Anders faded away, replaced by his memory of that battle long ago with a wounded Qunari in a sandy market square - a Qunari who wielded a warhammer mighty enough to shatter an Imperial greatsword of the finest quality. How Fenris had missed this earlier, he could not fathom. But now as he looked upon Sten of Meha-Shenaas, the elf knew without a doubt that it was the same warrior.

"So _now_ you remember," Sten growled as he tightened his grip on the haft of his warhammer. The muscles of his forearms visibly rippled from the simple gesture.

"Sten, I am escorting this viddathari to his new quarters. We are all brothers in the Qun," Adrian reminded him.

"_Honor_ is the way of the Qun. Ask this _basra-vashedan_ how I know him. Ask him how I know that he is without honor," Sten demanded.

"I will not!" Adrian raised his voice and cut his hand through the air. "I am kenathari by choice of the Tamassran. By the authority entrusted to me through her, I command you to step aside while I fulfill my duties in the care of viddathari!"

To Fenris's surprise, Sten motioned to his soldiers, who immediately parted ranks so that there was a narrow path between them. Adrian said nothing more to Sten. He wrapped one arm protectively around the elf's shoulders and began to walk quickly through the split in the regiment. Fenris felt over a dozen pairs of hostile eyes raking over him, but he and Adrian were soon clear of them. Neither man looked back and both remained silent as they hurried away.

They soon entered a residential district dominated by the modest homes of what would've been tradesmen during the Imperial days of Meha-Shenaas. There were a few people out and about in this section of town, but Fenris guessed that most were either in the trade district they had passed through or inside.

"The home is split in two. Your quarters are to the left. The brothers Lanreth and Tieral reside in the other," Adrian explained. Fenris smiled at the first name and frowned at the second. The other man noticed but did not comment. He had an angry look that he didn't bother to hide. Adrian kept the umbrella over Fenris's head until they reached the sheltered patio. "I must apologize again on behalf of Meha-Shenaas. There is no excuse for what just transpired. Believe me Fenris, the Tamassran will hear of this! And she will _not _be pleased! Farewell!" Adrian exclaimed quickly and walked back into the rain. Fenris didn't know what to say to that, and before he remembered his manners enough to give thanks, the man was long gone. The elf sighed, then pulled out his key and turned to the door.

* * *

Hawke struggled against the guards as they pulled him into a dank, dark cell that smelled of blood, piss, and burned flesh. The four men lifted him off his feet as he continued to resist and made their way to a tall wooden rack that stood next to a large granite table. As they neared the apparatus, one of the guards grabbed the back of Hawke's head.

"Bash his head against the rack and I'll make you a eunuch," Tacitus ordered from behind them. The soldier instantly removed his hand. "The pain he feels today will all come from _me_," the magister hissed as his gaze moved from the impassive mask of the Tevinter soldier to the Champion of Kirkwall. Tacitus stared at Hawke as the mage was placed on the rack, with the lyrium-laced manacles already on his wrists and ankles used to secure him in a spread-eagled position. His tan tunic was torn at the front, exposing much of the left side of his chest, while his breeches were ripped here and there at the waist, forcing them to rest low on his hips.

"I still can't believe I had _the_ Garrett Hawke in my possession," Tacitus remarked as his ice-blue eyes studied his captive. "I had heard such grand tales, but clearly they were exaggerated." The magister shook his head. "I see no noble champion!" He snarled. "For true nobility is also measured by the company one keeps, and I see that those closest to you include a beardless dwarf, a stuttering Dalish imbecile, and a pirate whore."

"Merrill is _not_ an imbecile!" Hawke growled, though he let the other two assertions stand. The lyrium-laced chains around Hawke's wrists and ankles dug into his skin, but the pain in his joints paled in comparison to the horror of the sounds all around him. He could hear wracking sobs punctuated by screams of anguish echoing down the stone corridor he had been dragged down. It terrified Hawke to think that the interrogations of his companions had already begun. It took every ounce of his willpower to mask the growing sense of hopelessness that gripped his heart.

"To think that _Fenris_ is the most impressive of your companions... it boggles the mind!" Tacitus threw one hand up in disbelief. The other held a chalice filled with blood. "For Danarius to be defeated by the likes of you... I expected better."

"I'm happy to disappoint you," Hawke muttered.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be quite pleased by the end of the day," Tacitus replied with a sneer as he unsheathed a gleaming dagger and stepped forward. "I considered using the actual spell that I gave you a taste of earlier. However, I'm feeling creative today."

"Lucky me," Hawke quipped, though his voice trembled slightly.

"Ah yes, let's see how long your sarcasm lasts," Tacitus smirked. "Do you know what this is?" He held the blood-filled chalice close to Hawke's face.

"Your favorite beverage?"

"Dragon's blood," Tacitus replied as he began to trace the tip of his dagger under Hawke's left nipple. He pressed the blade just enough to indent the skin, but not enough to break it.

"I suppose the blood of virgins is in short supply in Minrathous," Hawke remarked and waggled his brows. Tacitus responded to his attempt at mirth with a flick of the wrist. The dagger sliced deeply into Hawke's chest, causing the man to gasp in pain as his blood flowed freely. Tacitus then held the chalice under the wound and began to stir the mingling blood with his blade.

"Fresh dragon's blood mixed with that of a mage is one of the most potent spell reagents known," Tacitus explained with a malevolent drawl and a toothy grin. "The pain you are going to experience over the next several hours will be unrelenting and beyond your imagination..."

* * *

Anders groaned in pain as his eyes opened. His vision was hazy and his head was swimming. He tried to feel the back of his head, only to discover that his hands were bound behind his back. The apostate attempted to stand and found that his feet had also been tied together. Terrified, Anders tried to scream for help, but only a muffled grunt issued forth past the gauze that had been stuffed into his mouth and held in place by a tight cloth gag.

"Ah, you're awake," a cruel, deep voice muttered as Anders felt rough fingers run through his blond locks. The grip tightened and Anders was pulled into a seated position by the hair, eliciting another stifled scream. "Shut up or I'll slit your throat right now," the assailant warned as he stooped down so that his face was right in front of the mage's.

_Enric_.

The green eyes were uncannily like Fenris's and currently held the same gleam of rage that Anders knew all too well from Hawke's lover. The elf studied Anders in silence for a moment. The apostate noticed the sound of rain, though that gave him little clue of how long he had been unconscious. He looked down at the bonds around his ankles to see a black rope of unknown fiber that was intertwined with what he first thought was a thin silver chain. The way it glinted with a hint of blue revealed it to be lyrium instead. Anders opened his eyes wide as he realized that this must have been what had prevented Justice from breaking them free.

"_How could he know?_" Anders thought in fear as he looked at the dangerous green eyes only inches from his own.

"I had hoped you were Fenris," Enric sneered as he waved a long dagger near Anders's throat. "The saarebas rope would go so well with that white hair of his," the elf added with a chuckle. "Do you know that word? Saarebas?" Enric asked. When Anders nodded, the elf shook his head.

"Oh, I'm sure you know that it means 'mage.' But in the language of the Qunari, it actually means 'dangerous thing.' Fenris is no mage, but the name certainly fits! And as a creature created through magic, I have no doubt that the rope used to bind the saarebas works just as well on him!"

Anders felt a brief moment of relief when he realized that Enric had no idea that he was a mage, or that he carried a spirit within. The emotion was quickly overshadowed by renewed fear as the blade was leveled back at his throat.

"Fenris took everything from me. I wonder how much you mean to him?" Enric's green eyes narrowed. The elf opened his mouth to say more, but paused at a sound that could just be heard over the rain. It was the room's lock being turned.

The door slowly swung open as Fenris walked in. Anders immediately screamed to get his attention. Despite the gag, it was loud enough for Fenris to hear. He turned to his right and froze. Fenris's eyes widened in shock when he saw Anders bound and gagged, but his expression quickly shifted to one of deadly calm when he looked over at the other elf.

"Enric," Fenris stated without emotion.

"If you leave, he dies," Enric hissed. "Close the door."

"What are you doing here?" Fenris asked, though he instantly obeyed. His eyes were for Enric alone. Aside from the first glance, he kept his gaze off of Anders, despite how close the mage and his assailant were.

"What do you think? I've come to get my revenger, traitor."

"Revenge? Tying up and gagging my rival? You've done me a favor!" Fenris laughed.

"What?" Enric recoiled slightly from the unexpected reaction. Anders simply stared.

"You assumed he and I were friends? Lovers?"

"Obviously! I saw the way he rushed to your defense!" Enric snarled and fiddled with his knife dangerously close to the mage's neck.

"Because he is a fool! He only did it out of a misguided sense of duty to my lover, who he has always coveted."

"You're lying."

"Kill him if you must. I do not care. I have hated him for years, and the only reason I'm on this Maker-forsaken island is because I tried to kill him myself when he dared to make a claim on my lover. I followed him to what turned out to be a slaver ship, where I was captured."

"If that's true, why didn't you kill him once you were freed?"

"I tried to. And have this," Fenris motioned to his broken arm, "as the result. The Qunari attacked the slaver ship. They broke the mast, which fell upon me before I could kill the whore myself!" Fenris spat, the utter sincerity in his voice silencing Enric for a moment. Fenris pressed onward. "The only reason I did not kill him later is because he surrendered to the Qun before I had the chance. For me to kill another viddathari would mean my own death. They assumed a closeness between us that has never existed. I have long wished for his death, but it was simply not possible. Not until now."

"You're... you're bluffing," Enric stammered and stood up.

"You wish. Go ahead. Do it! Kill him and be done with it! Your own life will be forfeit in the eyes of the Qunari and I will be rid of both of you!"

"Or I could just kill you instead," Enric waved his knife and smirked.

"Then come at me if you dare!" Fenris quickly tugged the sling strap over his head and freed his right arm. "Even with my injuries, we both know where the odds are stacked!" He growled. "And once I'm done with you, Braith will truly be alone."

"Leave Braith out of this!" Enric hissed and stepped forward with his knife at the ready. Fenris crouched and prepared for a fight.

"I will rip your heart apart like all those boars we hunted!" Fenris promised as he bared his teeth. Enric mirrored his feral expression, but the corner of his upper lip began to quiver. His eyes grew wet and then a single tear fell down his cheek.

"My heart was already ripped apart the day you stood by your master," Enric managed to say with an unsteady voice. The remark brought Fenris out of his battle-ready crouch. Enric suddenly lunged forward, but before Fenris could do anything, the dark-haired elf ran by, opened the door, and fled into the rain.

Fenris stared after him, until a pleading grunt from Anders brought him back to his senses. He quickly closed the door, locked it, then looked around for something else to secure it with. His eyes settled on a chair next to a small desk a few feet away. He rushed over, grabbed the chair, then jammed it under the doorknob. Fenris jiggled it hard with his left hand, then satisfied that it would hold, he ran over to the apostate who was next to one of two beds in the room.

Fenris quickly removed the gag from the blond's mouth. Anders coughed but otherwise said nothing. The elf then turned him over and began to work at the knots at his hands. He'd seen rope like this before. Before the Battle of Seheron, he had helped a Tevinter patrol ambush a group of Qunari which had included a _karataam_, a group of mages and their arvaraad overseers. Caught by surprise, the mages' handlers had been overwhelmed, while the mages themselves had been powerless to aid them. While the saarebas wore heavy pauldrons on their shoulders draped with iron shackles, their hands were bound with the same black rope interwined with a thin lyrium chain.

"How did Enric discover that you're a mage?" Fenris asked as he slowly untied Anders.

"He didn't," Anders snapped. "The rope was meant for you. He knows that normal rope cannot bind you. He thought the kind used on the saarebas might."

"Are you alright?" Fenris added.

"That might have meant more had it been the first question asked!" Anders grunted as he pulled his wrists out of the knots that Fenris had loosened. When the elf reached for this feet, Anders slapped them away.

"What's wrong with you?" Fenris sat back on his heels and clenched his fists in frustration.

"What's wrong with me? Are you seriously asking me that? You just dared a crazed elf with nothing to lose to kill me!"

"Anders..." Fenris shook his head and his eyes saddened. "It was the only way."

"Oh, yes, having him kill me was the only way to save me!" The blond apostate snapped as he struggled with the winding knots at his feet. With a snarl, Anders finally undid the rope and kicked out of the last remaining loop. It turned out that Enric had used a single length of it to tie the mage up with. Anders kicked it aside and quickly stood up, then turned away from the elf. The sound of the rain grew stronger as the wind began to buffet the windows.

"Anders, if you would just stop for a moment and think about this, you'd realize what I said was all a ruse!"

"I get it! I understand! I'm not an idiot!" Anders turned around and fumed. "That doesn't mean I can't be angry about it! It doesn't mean that I'm not so scared that I almost wet myself. It doesn't mean that I liked hearing what you said! Especially when you made it all sound so damned convincing!"

"I had to!" Fenris shouted.

"I know!" Anders yelled back.

"Then stop arguing with me!"

"Just... just shut up!" Anders growled and turned around again.

"I'm sorry for the things I said. But I'm not sorry that you're safe now," Fenris whispered as he placed his left hand on the apostate's shoulder. Anders knocked the hand away and turned to the elf.

"You can take that apology and shove it up your ass! Preferably wrapped in sandpaper!" Anders yelled. Fenris blinked at that. He opened his mouth to say something, then paused and reconsidered. He blinked some more. And then he chuckled. Anders saw red and threw a punch that Fenris easily blocked and grabbed hold of. Anders tried to throw another punch with his left hand, but Fenris managed to catch that in such a way that he was practically hugging Anders, preventing the mage from raising his fists. The blond squirmed and struggled, then stomped on Fenris's foot, causing the elf to gasp and pitch to the side, sending them both falling onto the nearby bed.

Fenris was on top of Anders with their bare chests flush against each other. Their faces were only an inch apart. Suddenly Anders stopped struggling. Eyes the color of dark honey locked onto those of sylvan green. It was unclear who moved first, but when their lips brushed, struggling of an entirely different sort ensued. Anders pulled Fenris's head closer with both hands and drove his tongue past the elf's lips. Not to be outdone, Fenris's tongue wrestled past the mage's.

Both men were hard in an instant. Their erections strained against the fabric of their breeches as they both began to writhe back and forth. The elf's cock slid next to, then over the mage's, with both men bucking and moaning from the friction. The rain grew even louder as they began to fall into a rhythm, crashing together as lightning flashed and thunder sounded above. Anders took his hands and snaked them down Fenris's back. The elf hissed slightly as the mage's fingers ran over his tattoos, but neither man ceased their rutting. Anders continued trailing his hands down Fenris's lean, muscular body until he was clutching the elf's buttocks in a firm grip. He pulled Fenris to him, but the elf needed no convincing. Fenris growled with his mouth still on the mage's and began to thrust against him even harder. Anders pulled his head away and moaned, leaving his neck vulnerable.

Fenris seized the opportunity and ran his mouth from the stubbled jawline to the very base of the other man's throat. His lips and tongue moved in time with his breath and thrusts, which Anders matched with equal enthusiasm. It had been so long since either man had even had the privacy for self-pleasure, but the opportunity to shed their breeches had long since passed. Neither man was coherent enough to break contact and communicate any desire beyond the incredible sensation of chest against chest and cock against cock.

Their lips met again, but this time the kiss was brief. Fenris was too close to his release and his shoulders trembled. He pulled his head back and closed his eyes just as Anders opened his. The blond watched as a pained look crossed Fenris's face and then the elf's body went rigid. The mage's amber eyes grew wide as Fenris cried out in the throes of an exquisite agony. The elf's entire body shuddered as his cock began to pulse, with Anders feeling every throb of Fenris's hardened length pressed tightly against his belly, right next to the mage's own. Anders had wanted the sensation to last longer, but it was no longer possible. While Fenris was still in the midst of his release, Anders felt his own surge through his loins.

The mage's body jerked as his seed spilled forth. His cock was still trapped beneath his breeches, but Anders didn't care. His hands moved up to tightly grasp Fenris's upper back and pushed upward one last time to rub his slowly fading hardness against the elf's. Fenris responded to the movement with a subtle thrust of his own. The elf's heavy breath began to cool the sweat on the mage's shoulder as Fenris rested his head against the other man's neck. Barely noticed by the exhausted pair, the thunder had receded, though the downpour remained heavy. With a soft sigh, Fenris rolled off of Anders. The elf and the mage were silent as they slowly caught their breath, their sides still touching. It wasn't long before the sound of the rain and the rumble of distant thunder lulled both men to sleep.


	17. The Cover of Sleep

**Chapter 17: The Cover of Sleep**

Tacitus pulled the blood-filled chalice away from Hawke's chest once the open wound began to staunch on its own. Long crimson streaks stained the captive mage's tunic and breeches on the left side, as the cut the magister had made was wider than the lip of the golden goblet. Tacitus hummed to himself as he continued to stir the two strains of blood together with a sure hand. The magister then paused all of sudden. His head remained lowered, but he lifted his cold, piercing eyes at Hawke.

"To think that I owe this prize to a half-breed. It is without a doubt the only favor a scion of Arlathan has ever done for me," Tacitus muttered before looking back down to the mixing blood. "I never quite understood what Danarius saw in elves. He was obsessed with them, you know," the magister added with a conspiratorial tone as if he and Hawke were close friends. "And that obsession was the death of him, as I warned him it would be. If only he had listened to me!"

"He should have just let Fenris go," Hawke snarled. "Did he really think Fenris would just go with him once confronted in person?"

"I think you underestimate just how devoted the elf was to Danarius," Tacitus murmured and glanced back at his prisoner. "Had Fenris not found a _new_ master, I'm sure he would have obeyed Danarius once in his presence again."

"I am not his master," Hawke growled.

"Once a slave, always a slave," Tacitus said with a shrug. "He may think he is free, but he has simply shifted his allegiance from one master to another."

"Oh, sure! If by _slave _you mean someone who completely disregards his master's wishes and comes and goes as he pleases! That definition is new to me, but then again, you Tevinters are the experts on slavery!" Hawke scoffed.

"And where _is _Fenris now, I wonder?" Tacitus murmured. "If he is no longer with you, perhaps he's found someone else better able to fulfill his particular... appetites?" The magister emphasized the final word with a smirk.

"Oh, you'll have to try harder than that," Hawke rolled his eyes. "I kept him well-satisfied in that regard."

"A single lover? I highly doubt that. Not after the veritable parade of cocks that elf has had in his ass and mouth during his stay at Danarius's estate," Tacitus chuckled.

"You're lying," Hawke said with a resolute shake of his head.

"Oh am I?" Tacitus sneered. "Danarius let others have their way with him, several at a time, in fact. The elf struggled the first few times and had to be restrained, but he soon grew accustomed to the feel of a cock inside him," the magister chuckled before adding, "including mine."

"You bastard!" Hawke shouted. He gnashed his teeth and struggled against the manacles over his wrists and ankles. The muscles of his chest strained from the effort, causing his wound to open and bleed freely once more. The sight caused the magister's mirth to rise.

"Oh look, your bleeding heart!" Tacitus laughed as he watched the blood stream down the left side of Hawke's chest. "You really thought your precious elf was untouched before he reached your bed?" The magister asked as he finished stirring and set the chalice and dagger on the granite table next to him. He was silent as he let his prisoner mull over his words. Memories surfaced quickly in Hawke's mind.

_"Fenris doesn't belong to anyone," Hawke said firmly to his lover's former master._

_"Do I detect a note of jealousy? It's not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?" Danarius drawled._

_"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris snarled in rage._

The way that Fenris had reacted to the magister's words led Hawke to suspect that there had been another element to the relationship between master and slave. However, other memories warred with this notion.

"_I heard that Tevinter slaves are kept oiled so they glisten. Did your master oil you up? Did you glisten for him?" Isabela asked with keen interest._

"_I was his bodyguard," Fenris replied flatly. _

There had been no anger from Fenris during that exchange, only minor annoyance that seemed directed at Isabela in general rather than the question in particular. Had anything resembling Tacitus's accusations occurred, surely Fenris would have had a more heated answer for Isabela's implications.

Fenris was a most enthusiastic lover, the elf's departure after their first night together notwithstanding. He loved to give, he loved to take, and there seemed to be no shame attached to any of the intimate acts he and Hawke shared. The one and only thing Fenris always avoided was taking Hawke into his mouth. Everyone had their personal preferences, and Hawke allowed Fenris his. It wasn't something he missed so much as to press the issue with his lover. Or at least that's what Hawke told himself. The speed with which a certain, unwelcome memory rose to the surface said otherwise.

_Hawke's eyes widened as Anders pushed his legs apart and assaulted the buttons of his trousers. Before Hawke knew it, his cock was engulfed by Anders's mouth._

_"Maker's breath, Anders!" Hawke groaned as Anders stroked his inner thighs with both hands, while swallowing and licking at his entire length. Hawke ran his hands through the other mage's flaxen hair, then gripped him and began to thrust forward. Anders didn't balk, but continued and matched his movements to Hawke's, letting the other mage go even deeper._

"This is all part of the torture," Hawke growled at the magister, though a portion of his anger was leveled at himself. "You're trying to poison my memories of Fenris, but it won't work," he whispered with a harsh breath and ceased struggling, though his teeth were still bared. "Regardless of what may or may not have happened, my feelings for Fenris haven't changed!" The screams and cries from elsewhere in the labyrinthine dungeon still assaulted Hawke's ears, but now with all of his anger focused on the man before him, it all faded into the background.

"Think what you like. It doesn't matter to me," Tacitus laughed again while dipping his right thumb into the bloody chalice.

"What I think..." Hawke narrowed his eyes and paused for a moment, "is that your _friendship_ with Danarius never went as far as you wanted." When Tacitus immediately stopped laughing, Hawke pressed onward. "Oh I'm sure you've had all sorts of intricate revenge fantasies concocted in your head featuring Fenris. Because you're jealous, aren't you? That Danarius, a renowned magister, was so obsessed with a _slave_, that your clumsy overtures were completely ignored. I think-"

"Silence you filthy elf-lover!" Tacitus roared and backhanded Hawke across the face with his left hand. The heavy blow instantly split his prisoner's lip and sent a spray of blood onto the near wall. Hawke groaned from the pain, but then turned his head back to the magister and gave him a bloody, feral grin.

"Hit a sore spot, haven't I?"

"I am going to sincerely enjoy making you suffer!" Tacitus's left hand shot out again, but this time he grabbed Hawke's face in a bruising grip. While holding his captive still, Tacitus swiped his blood-dipped thumb across the bridge of Hawke's nose. He then let go and stepped back. The magister closed his eyes and began to chant in Arcanum.

"_Sanguinem draconis, dolor aeterna_," Tacitus intoned with his palms forward and fingers outstretched. The blood on his thumb evaporated into a fine mist, while the smear across Hawke's nose began to pulse with crimson light. The champion could feel heat spreading from the mixture of blood on his face that grew more intense as the magister continued to chant the same words over and over. Tacitus then opened his eyes and began to gesticulate through a series of intricate patterns in the air. Lines of red trailed from his fingers until he brought his hands together with a loud clap. "_Sanguinem draconis, dolor aeterna!_" The magister shouted at the top of his lungs.

Tacitus's outburst was instantly eclipsed by the anguished scream from his prisoner. Hawke's eyes burst into a baleful red glow along with the smear on his nose. Pain even greater than Tacitus's previous curse radiated from the blood on his face to every single nerve ending of his body. The pain was so great that he could no longer hear anything, not even his own voice. His entire world was encompassed by a burning torment, with room for nothing else. On and on, it continued when suddenly flashes of memories began to assert themselves, warring with the pain for his attention. The recollections promised no release, holding an anguish all their own. Hawke heard hisses and screeches that should have been unintelligible, but he could understand them as if it were plain speech.

"_Mother is dead! Kill the intruders!"_

_"Young ones flee! __We will delay them for as long as we can!"_

_"The two-legged ones approach! ____Protect the young!"_

_Through the red haze of his eyes, Hawke could no longer see Tacitus. Instead, before him was a massive cavern that flashed with magical light as thunder and lightning sounded all around him. Dragonlings raced past him, but he stood still, frozen in fright as he looked upon the great body of his mother, the high dragon. Before her were several robed figures, as well as twice that number of cloaked men wielding swords and crossbows. He bared his teeth and belched a puff of flame. One of his larger siblings turned on him and pushed him back with a sweep of her tail. She hissed at him with her slitted eyes blazing._

_"Flee! They killed mother! We are no match for them!"_

_"Why are they here? What do they want?"_

_"They want you," were the final sibilant words from his nestmate as a score of crossbow bolts slammed into her skull, one piercing her right eye in a spray of blood._

"_No!" Hawke roared as flames burst from his reptilian maw. He flexed his wings, still far too small to fly, but he could glide. He crouched down, then leaped forward with extended wings and claws. He shrieked in fury as he approached the vile intruders, but he was blinded by light far brighter than any he had seen before. He stumbled and lost his footing, falling in a heap as something fell over him. Hawke opened his eyes and struck out with his claws, but found himself entangled within a net that he could not tear. He inhaled deeply, then let out a fiery breath. Though the ropes in front of his face blackened, he still could not rip them apart. He continued to struggle in a rage, but then his flank was pierced by a single crossbow bolt that burned. The pain faded quickly into a numbness that spread throughout his entire body..._

The vision ceased along with most of the pain. The red haze from Hawke's eyes and blood smear faded and once again he could see Tacitus. However, now the magister was turned away from him and was in a heated discussion with another robed figure. They spoke in Arcanum, and though he had learned a few words of the language from Fenris, the conversation was lost to Hawke. Whatever they were debating, it was clear that Tacitus was not pleased in the least. Several times he shouted, while the other magister hissed in response, until finally Tacitus completely lost his temper and slapped in fury at the chalice on the table. It clattered against the wall and sprayed blood everywhere, narrowly missing the other magister. Tacitus then turned to Hawke, who could barely keep his head up. "I am not done with you! I will return shortly and we will pick up right where we left off!" He promised with a flash of his ice-blue eyes. Still in shock from the pain and the vision, Hawke could not reply and let his head slump down.

Hawke barely noticed Tacitus leave the cell along with the unknown magister. His head was swimming from the magic he had been subjected to and he could barely keep his eyes open. Hawke wasn't even sure why he wanted to. A wave of fatigue washed over him and he closed his eyes. The momentary sense of peace was shattered by the fluttering of fingertips on his cheek. Fearing the worst, his eyes snapped open.

"Feynriel?" Hawke gasped.

* * *

Anders yawned as he slowly woke up. It was no longer raining, evinced by the sunlight that was now streaming through the translucent windows of the marble cottage. He felt a weight on his chest, but from the sudden purring that began, he realized it was Mab. Anders blinked and lifted his head from his pillow slightly. The large black cat was curled up right on top of him, with her eyes half-closed as she continued to purr. Anders grinned and began to pet her. He was so focused on Mab that it took a soft sigh and mumble from his right to remind Anders that he was not alone in bed.

The mage and cat both turned their heads to look at the sleeping elf right next to them. Fenris was on his side, facing in their direction. Anders blinked his eyes hard, half-expecting the vision to just disappear. Seconds passed and the elf remained solid and real, with his knees slightly bent and pressed against the mage's leg, while his left arm rested against the mage's shoulder. Fenris's mouth was open just slightly, while his hair fell over his left eye. The bruising was still there, but the elf's expression of peace was so different from any Anders had seen on Fenris's face before. There was no worry or resentment, no anguish or rage.

_He's beautiful._

Anders thought back on the moment he first realized that, long ago at that campfire when he still hated the elf. And now? The mage was unsure of how he felt, but what he did know was that looking upon Fenris at rest was a rare privilege not to be taken lightly. He said nothing as his eyes roamed the length of the elf's body, from head to toe, taking one detour after another as he followed the swirling lines and whorls of lyrium. The dark honey eyes stopped at the sight of the elf's right arm, still in gauze and splints, but without the support of the arm sling. Anders couldn't help but worry at that, but as he glanced back at Fenris's face, he could see no trace of discomfort or pain.

Anders felt a sudden spike of jealousy, but completely unlike any he had ever felt in relation to the elf. For at that moment he was jealous of_ Hawke_ and the utter devotion he inspired in Fenris. The blond apostate's breath caught at that realization. He still yearned for his fellow mage, but that didn't stop his fingers from reaching toward the elf at his side. Anders almost touched Fenris, but thought better of it at the last moment. Instead, he kept his fingers less than inch away from the elf's skin, and began to trace along the lyrium brands in the way he had done only with his eyes before. Along with the warmth of the skin so close to his fingers, Anders could feel the subtle emanation of magic from the metal that had been seared into it. The mage could scarcely imagine how painful it must have been to receive the tattoos. His heart ached at how Fenris had seen only the worst of mages, and now painted them all with the same brush... save for Hawke. Again he felt a pang of jealousy.

"_Hawke is a mage... just like me. And yet he loves Hawke and has always hated me,_" Anders thought to himself.

"_He hates you no longer,_" Justice replied.

"_Justice! Are you well, old friend?_"

"_Yes. Thanks to you. And Fenris._"

"_It was Enric who attacked me. He bound me up with the same rope used by the Qunari on their saarebas. That's what weakened you._"

"_I see_," the spirit intoned and fell silent for a moment before adding, "_I approve of this change of affairs with the elf_."

"_What_?" Anders was flabbergasted.

"_Sexual release between mortals can often bind them together as tightly as chains. I did not approve of your infatuation with Hawke as it was a distraction from our purpose. This dalliance with the elf currently serves our needs. Continue to court his favor and he will be more likely to keep our secret_."

"_And here I thought you had turned into a romantic_," Anders scoffed. _"I had no ulterior motives regarding this 'dalliance' with Fenris_," the mage assured the spirit within.

"_Then why did it happen_?"

"_I... I don't know,_" Anders said honestly. Justice had nothing more to say on that, leaving the mage alone with his thoughts.

* * *

"Welcome to Solas and the estate of Magister Aurelius," Feynriel said gently as his fingers left Hawke's cheek and waved to the large manor that stood before them. It dominated a verdant meadow dotted with small farms in the distance. The manicured lawn was a veritable canvas for the art of topiary. There were dozens of shrubs and bushes carefully trimmed into the shapes of animals, both great and small, including two elephants and a dragon spreading its wings. Framing the great oaken door of the manor was a pair of immense pillars and a matching set of water fountains. The one on the left had a mostly nude elven woman pouring water from a flagon, while the fountain on the right was of a similarly undressed elven man doing the same from a goblet. The sun was shining high in the sky, but the rays were warm on Hawke's skin and an inviting contrast to the cool breeze that smelled of lilacs and roses.

"What? How?" Hawke asked before he looked down at himself to find that he was no longer in his torn, bloody tunic and breeches, but rather his mage armor. "The Fade," he whispered, though the scene around him held none of the haziness and soft edges he was accustomed to. Everything looked crisp, sharp, and utterly real.

"Yes." Feynriel nodded. "You fell asleep later than the rest, but their thoughts helped me find you," he added as he led Hawke up the short set of tiled steps between the pillars. The blond apprentice waved his hands again and the great doors of the manor opened without a sound. Hawke's heart leaped in his chest as he caught sight of Varric, Isabela, and Merrill.

"Hawke!" All three of his companions shouted and rushed outside. He was nearly tackled as the dwarf and two women grabbed hold and hugged him tight.

"It was awful Hawke, awful!" Merrill sobbed into Hawke's left shoulder.

"What did they do to you?" Hawke asked before he could stop himself. His voice had taken on a razor-sharp edge as he silently made a promise to make Tacitus pay.

"Nothing! But the screams! I thought any of them might be you! It was horrible!" Merrill continued to cry, never leaving Hawke's shoulder as her own shook under his embrace.

"They didn't touch me either," Varric attested as he stepped back. "They just chained me up against the wall and let me stew in my own thoughts for a bit," the dwarf added with a shudder. Hawke nodded, then glanced at Isabela, who had also stepped away from him, but had remained silent. No one said a word for a moment and even Merrill composed herself enough to let go of Hawke. She wiped at her wet eyes and looked over at the pirate captain, as well.

"Oh, they started in on me," Isabela said with a shrug. Hawke's brows furrowed, but the pirate waved his concerns away. "Nothing I couldn't handle," she boasted, though her troubled expression left that in doubt. "Good thing the smell of Mitchum's vomit kept us all up through the night on the Dragon's Maw. Otherwise, it might have been a bit harder to fall asleep after..." Isabela's voice trailed off and she looked away.

"I found the women as they began to dream, though it was hard to pull the dwarf here. His people don't dream as we do, but with enough effort... well, he's here now," Feynriel grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He then turned to Hawke and his expression fell slightly. "You were actually harder to find," the blond said. "Tacitus must have placed you in the very center of the dungeon. Surrounded by so much pain and suffering, I had to wade through countless fever dreams and nightmares to reach you."

"But you found me as soon as I fell asleep," Hawke remarked with a raised brow.

"Come now, Hawke. You know as well as I do that time moves differently in the Fade." Feynriel gave him a gentle smirk. "At least in this case, it was in your favor."

"What's that on your face?" Isabela asked all of a sudden.

"What?"

"On the bridge of your nose," Varric added.

"Is that blood?" Merrill asked as she lightly touched the smear Tacitus had left on his face. Hawke hissed at the contact and drew away from the sharp pain it elicited.

"I'm sorry Hawke!" Merrill immediately apologized, her shimmering eyes wide with worry.

"Not your fault," Hawke said with a wince and gingerly touched the mark with his own finger. It wasn't nearly as painful when he touched it himself, but the skin was still raw.

"Here." Feynriel offered a small mirror that appeared after a brush of his fingers through the air. Hawke nodded and took it in hand, then inspected the marking himself. The blood was no longer wet, but rather than dried and flakey, the redness seemed to be a part of his skin.

"It looks rather dashing," Isabela offered, though she shrank back a bit at the sharp look that Hawke gave her.

"The way I got it certainly wasn't," Hawke muttered. He handed the mirror back to Feynriel. It disappeared after another wave of the apprentice's fingers. "It was dragon's blood mixed with my own," Hawke added. Merrill and Feynriel both gasped. Varric and Isabela glanced back and forth between the three mages.

"Was it fresh?" Merrill asked with eyes even wider than before.

"Yes," Hawke whispered with an involuntary shudder.

"And...?" Varric motioned with his fingers for someone to explain.

"Fresh dragon's blood mixed with a mage's is a powerful spell component. Whatever Tacitus did to Hawke... well, um..." Feynriel grimaced.

"I think we get it." Varric held up his hand.

"Let's just say it wasn't fun," Hawke grunted with none of his usual mirth. That more than anything said volumes to his three companions, who all stared at the bloody stain on his skin.

"Don't worry. You're safe here. Well, your minds, at least," Feynriel assured them. "Now that I've pulled you into my own dream, I can keep you here and sound asleep, no matter what they do to your bodies."

"So you're saying that they can hack off my limbs, but as long as I have my head, I can still pretend that everything is fine?" Isabela winced at her own words.

"In so many words, yes." Feynriel nodded. Merrill blanched. "Aurelius isn't a Dreamer, but he's helped me to hone my abilities," he added. "As long as I remain in the Fade with you, no pain or torture will be able to rouse you from your slumber."

* * *

Anders looked up at the ceiling. He still couldn't believe Justice approved of what had transpired, regardless of the pragmatic reasons. Anders had grown so accustomed to the spirit's disdain wherever intimacy with another person was involved that he generally did his best not to think about it. Thankfully Justice didn't care about self-pleasure, though with the elf's half-naked body next to him, that was the last thing on the mage's mind.

The memory of what he and Fenris had done now ran unfettered through his thoughts, free of the restraint he possessed before Justice's unexpected revelation. The other man's touch, his moans of pleasure... it all came back to Anders with a vengeance: the way the elf had kissed him so possessively, the manner in which he had pinned Anders against the bed, the strength behind his thrusts, and the feel of his buttocks cupped in the mage's hands. But now he lay next to Anders, with such a look of peace, that the mage felt a sudden twinge of guilt at the vigorous nature of his lustful thoughts.

On a sudden impulse, Anders reached forward and touched Fenris's hair. The mage told himself that he merely wanted to brush the errant lock away from the elf's left eye so that he could inspect the bruising more closely. However, the soft feel of Fenris's hair removed all other thoughts from his mind and Anders began to card his fingers through the silky strands. Fenris's green eyes snapped open, causing Anders to stop abruptly, though his hand remained in the elf's hair.

"You're touching my hair," Fenris observed with a neutral voice.

"Sorry." Anders blushed immediately and withdrew his fingers.

"Why?" Fenris asked as his eyes studied the mage's.

"I... um... I wanted to take a look at the bruising to your eye."

"And?"

"And it looks better." Anders gulped and thought frantically for something else to say. His eyes settled on Fenris's right arm. "Your arm should be in the sling."

"Yes, it should," Fenris agreed and slid off the bed. Mab got up and stretched on Anders's chest, causing him to yelp slightly as her claws extended.

"Stop that," the mage chided his cat gently and lifted her off of him. Anders set her down next to him, then swung his legs off the edge of the bed and sat up. Mab blinked at him then jumped to the floor. She licked one paw for a moment, then scampered over to the other bed in the room and settled down once more. Mab watched Fenris with one eye opened as the elf began to pace back and forth in the space between the two beds. He didn't even pause when he grabbed hold of his arm sling and awkwardly put it back on.

"Anders." Fenris said, though he didn't stop pacing.

"Fenris," Ander replied.

"We have to talk," the elf muttered and finally stopped. He turned to look the mage squarely in the eyes. Anders wanted to turn from the intensity of the gaze, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact.

"Then let's talk," Anders replied, proud that he was able to sound so very calm.

"About Enric..." Fenris hesitated.

"What about him?" Anders asked with a raised brow. He had not expected the former Fog Warrior to be the first thing Fenris brought up for discussion.

"You cannot tell anyone about what Enric did."

"Excuse me?" The mage's mouth remained open in surprise.

"Let me talk to him. I owe him that much. Who knows what the Qunari will do to him if this comes to light."

"You must be joking! Need I remind you that he wanted to kill me, Fenris!" Anders growled.

"I took so much from him! He was not in his right mind when he attacked you in my stead!" Fenris protested.

"And what do you think he'll do when you two sit down and chat?" Anders muttered. "Does he need to beat you to a pulp again before you do something?"

"I deserve far worse," Fenris said softly. Anders didn't know what to say to that. Fenris soon added, "he wasn't always like this."

"I know. It would be hard to forget your tale after less than a day," Anders replied with a wary tone. "That still doesn't excuse what he did to me."

"Please," Fenris pleaded, his green eyes becoming so sorrowful that Anders felt his heart ache at the sight. He had to look away, though his resolve continued to crumble.

"I can't believe I'm saying this... but okay," Anders whispered angrily.

"Promise me," Fenris urged.

"Fenris... don't press your luck," Anders warned. He looked back up, but cursed himself when saw those blighted, elven eyes again.

"I thought they were all dead. This is my chance to make amends, starting with Enric. I cannot do that if he is imprisoned or dead," Fenris explained. "Promise me you won't tell anyone," Fenris repeated.

"I promise." Anders punctuated his concession with a harsh sigh.

"Thank you, Anders. You have no idea how much this means to me," Fenris said with clear relief.

"I think I have an inkling," Anders offered with a slight smile. Fenris returned the expression for a split second before his face grew serious again.

"You should be safe as long as Enric continues to think we're rivals," Fenris said carefully.

"That might be a little difficult after... well, you know..." Anders smirked despite the sudden nervousness he felt and let his raised brows say the rest.

"It shouldn't be difficult at all," Fenris retorted with a frown and looked away. He muttered something under his breath and began to pace once more. The look that stole over the elf's face was one that Anders was well-acquainted with. _Regret_. Seeing it sparked a flare of anger within the mage.

"About what happened after Enric left..." Fenris's voice trailed off as he avoided eye contact.

"Let's not dance around this," Anders said sharply, causing Fenris to stop pacing and turn to him. "It's clear that you regret what we did, but I don't," Anders stated with gritted teeth. He couldn't believe he was saying this, and neither could Fenris, from the look on the elf's face that was equal parts guilt and surprise.

"What are you saying?" Fenris asked with furrowed brows.

"It's been a while for both of us," Anders leaned forward and clasped his hands over his lap, though he kept his eyes on Fenris. "We haven't even had a chance to touch ourselves for days, maybe weeks. Given the choice between that and repeating what we did earlier, I'd much prefer the latter," Anders stated, marveling at the truth of the sentiment he had not even been sure of until actually voicing it.

"You? Me? It was a mistake!" Fenris muttered with a shake of his head. "It should never have happened!"

"You and Hawke are exactly the same!" Anders raised his voice and clenched his fists. The sudden hurt he felt at the elf's words added more fuel to the fire of his anger and resentment. "If you didn't want anything to happen, then you shouldn't have kissed _me_ first!"

"I... I did not!" Fenris protested, though the tone of his voice was far from certain.

"Yes... yes you did," Anders replied instantly, though he felt his own doubts on that point begin to rise.

"Wait..." Fenris murmured as a suspicious look crept over his face.

"Wait what?" Anders scoffed with an angry glare.

"Hawke swore to me that you kissed _him_ first on that night at the estate-"

"That wasn't the time I was talking about!" Anders snapped before he realized what he was saying. Fenris's eyes flashed.

"Then which time were you referring to?" Fenris's voice took on a deathly chill as he stepped toward the mage...

* * *

_AN: Tacitus's spell is Latin for "blood of the dragon, pain eternal."_


	18. Ghosts and Spirits

**Chapter 18: Ghosts and Spirits**

"I asked you a question," Fenris growled. "Which _time _were you referring to?" The fuming elf demanded again, though he stopped in his approach and awaited the mage's answer.

"Fenris... I... um..." Anders stumbled over his words and visibly gulped. He stood up and lifted his palms before him.

"Do _not _lie to me, Anders," Fenris warned.

"It's not as bad as you think, I swear," Anders said quickly. "You and Hawke had an argument. It was about Feynriel. He came to see me."

"I remember that night..." Fenris muttered as a hurt look crossed his face, before it settled back into one of simmering anger.

"He and I talked. He got a little drunk..." Anders gulped again.

"And?"

"He kissed me," Anders admitted. The look of pain that stole over Fenris's face filled Anders with shame. The elf turned away for a moment to collect himself, but the look remained when he turned back to Anders.

"I believe you," Fenris murmured. Anders wanted to step away, but the bed was directly behind him. "What else did you do?"

"Fenris..."

"Tell me!" Fenris snapped.

"I took him into my mouth-"

"You did what?" The elf looked completely aghast at the notion.

"Do I really need to repeat myself?"

"You put your _mouth_ on his _cock_?" Fenris asked, as if one man pleasuring another in that fashion was the worst sexual act imaginable.

"That's all that happened. We never went any further."

"That was far enough!" Fenris hissed as the lyrium brands across his entire body burst into life. He was covered in ghostly flame and would have stepped forward, were it not for the bright blue sparks of electricity that now crackled along the mage's forearms and arced between his outstretched hands. The color of the lyrium brands matched that of the electricity almost exactly, though this was lost on both men as they glared at each other.

"I let you hurt me before, but if you think I'll allow you to lay a finger on me again without a fight, you are sorely mistaken!" Anders shouted as the light of the sparks danced in his eyes.

"So you summon your demon to do your bidding," Fenris spat, though he did not approach. There was a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

"Justice is more than willing to come to my defense, but no, this is all me. I am a mage and spirit or no, I am far from helpless!" Anders warned.

"Something I am quite familiar with, _saarebas_," the elf hissed the final, Qunari word with a hatred that was almost palpable in the air between them. The mage's eyes flashed with anger as well as pain, the latter of which caused Fenris's own expression to falter momentarily. Before Anders could retort, Mab began to yowl at the top of her lungs. The feline cry of agony was horrific and sounded as if she were being skinned alive. Both men were so startled by the cat's outburst that the visible evidence of their powers vanished as they turned to look her way. The elf's brands faded back to silver and the mage's sparks dissipated with nary a trace.

"Mab!" Anders ran past Fenris and scooped the cat into his arms. She quit her yowling as soon as Anders touched her.

"What in the Blight?" Fenris stared, but then a loud knocking on the door drew his attention away.

"Fenris! Anders! It's Adrian! Is everything alright?" The Rivaini mentor shouted from behind the door.

"Yes!" Both the elf and the mage called out as one. They met each other's gaze for a moment, both pairs of eyes hardened and wary. Anders then looked away and began to fuss over his cat.

"May I come in?" Adrian asked with an agitated voice.

"Yes," Fenris answered.

"Fenris!" Anders gave a hissing, frantic whisper and pointed toward the elf's crotch, then to his own, while holding Mab with one arm. Fenris blanched when he saw the light stain of male seed on the fabric of the mage's breeches, then looked down to see that he had a matching stain of his own. Anders set Mab down and quickly shucked his breeches off, with his backside toward Fenris. The elf stared at the naked flesh for a moment, then turned away and did the same.

"It's locked!" Adrian said as he unsuccessfully tried the door.

"Sorry! Coming!" Fenris shouted as threw the first pair of breeches under the bed, then quickly stepped into a new pair. He growled in frustration at his unsuccessful attempt to tie the front of his trousers with one hand. He looked at Ander as if to ask for help, but then grunted in pain as he rapidly freed his right arm from the sling instead. The elf adjusted himself, then finished tying the laces to his breeches as he walked toward the door. Fenris removed the chair he had braced the door with, then expertly placed his right arm back in the sling. With a calming breath and a twist of his left hand, the elf turned the lock. As soon as the lock mechanism was undone, the door swung open. Fenris was nearly hit as he stumbled backward.

Adrian was flanked by two horned Qunari guards. Both were armed with large swords which they held at the ready. Fenris stared at the men, then back at Adrian. The kenathari saw the look and reached forward to clasp Fenris's left shoulder.

"Are you well?" Adrian asked again. When Fenris nodded, the Rivaini man turned to the two guards and nodded. They lowered their swords and took up position by the door while Adrian walked in.

"Good morning," Anders said to their visitor, then bent over and placed a quick kiss to Mab's head before looking back up.

"What in the world was that noise? It sounded like something was dying in here!" Adrian exclaimed as he looked around the cottage before closing the door behind him gently. The elf and the mage looked at each other again. Fenris was the first to speak.

"I accidentally stepped on my friend's cat when I got out of bed," the elf lied as he schooled his expression into one of contrition. At the skeptical look leveled at him by Adrian, Fenris quickly added, "Anders and I were napping and I wasn't watching where I put my feet when I slipped out of bed."

"The clumsy oaf!" Anders growled. "Luckily Mab seems fine now."

"I see," Adrian said with an odd tone to his voice. "You were _both_ napping," he murmured as he looked from one bed to the other. One was clearly disheveled, with the sheets rumpled all over, while the other still had crisp sheets that had clearly not been slept in at all. Fenris, then Anders noticed the objects of Adrian's gaze. Both men gulped as he turned back to them. He was clearly considering what he saw.

"You brought guards," Fenris stated flatly, hoping to change the subject from the potentially dangerous topic at hand.

"I did," Adrian said with a firm nod. He chewed his lip in thought, then added, "I was told that Enric was seen leaving your quarters just before the worst of the storm. I was told only a minute ago, otherwise I would've been here much earlier."

"Oh." Fenris said without emotion. Adrian raised his brow.

"So was Enric here?" The kenathari asked with a worried look.

"He was," Fenris replied after a moment's hesitation.

"I brought the guards because I expected another fight," Adrian said as he looked both Fenris and Anders up and down. "Obviously that did not happen, though hearing that frightful noise from the terenbas upon reaching your home had my imagination running amok!" The Rivaini mentor chuckled at Mab and shook his head. "It's a good thing that the brothers next door were already out by the market square when the terenbas made that racket!"

"Yes, I agree." Fenris breathed a sigh of relief. He and Anders had not been very careful about the volume of their argument, having completely forgotten that Lanreth and Tieral could've been just on the other side of the wall.

"So what did Enric want?" Adrian asked, his voice growing more serious again.

"To talk," Fenris answered vaguely.

"To apologize?" Adrian fixed the elf with an expectant look.

"Not exactly," Anders murmured, drawing a hard glare from Fenris, which the blond blithely ignored. "I don't think Enric will be saying 'sorry' to Fenris anytime soon, but at least they were able to discuss their difficult past without coming to blows."

"Well, that's a good sign!" Adrian beamed and clapped his hands. "On that hopeful note, I'm happy to announce that the Tamassran has returned from Par Vollen earlier than expected. The storm moved north while her ship sailed in from the east, so she was spared the inclement weather. Apparently the selection of the new Arishok was settled upon far quicker than anyone expected. Very auspicious, that!" Adrian grinned.

"Wonderful," Anders feigned enthusiasm rather well. Fenris's smile looked rather forced, but Adrian either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I had planned to at least gather all the viddathari for a shortened version of the town tour after the worst of the rain, but with the arrival of the Tamassran, that will have to wait. She is eager to meet all of the newest brothers and sisters in the faith, though she is particularly interested in seeing you, Fenris," Adrian added.

"I am honored," Fenris replied as politely as possible. "Anaan esaam Qun!" The elf added with a brief bow.

"Anaan esaam Qun!" Adrian responded instantly. He glanced over at Anders, who quickly followed suit. "Once the Tamassran is ready, I will fetch you. Good day," Adrian said as he turned for the door. Fenris and Anders said their farewells, but their mentor stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned around with a slightly pensive look on his face.

"Yes?" Fenris and Anders both asked.

"A quick word of advice," Adrian began, though he glanced back at the only bed that was clearly slept in recently. He turned back to the men before him and cleared his voice. "Your personal lives are strictly your business. Please be discreet," he said with a knowing look. Anders blushed, though Fenris only responded with the faintest of nods. Adrian returned the gesture, then left, making sure to close the door behind him.

Anders breathed out a sigh of relief and sat down next to Mab on the bed that was still made. Fenris remained standing and turned to glare at the apostate. When Anders met the elf's eyes, his brown eyes hardened.

"You're welcome for keeping the promise I made, despite the fact that you were seconds from attacking me. Again," the mage muttered.

"Thank you," Fenris growled with extreme reluctance.

"Now hopefully there's a chance that we can discuss _our_ difficult past without coming to blows," Anders quipped, though Fenris was immune to the attempt at mirth. He simply continued to glare. "Sit," Anders motioned to the bed on the other side of the room, which Fenris was standing closer to.

"I'm not a dog," the elf shot back, though the growl in his voice didn't help his point.

"Please," Anders added softly. At this Fenris narrowed his eyes, but complied to the apostate's surprise. Anders looked at the elf across the room, then glanced down at the rumpled sheets on either side of the brooding warrior. The mage could scarcely believe what they had done in that bed so recently. In light of their current acrimony, it seemed like a dream.

"You obviously wish to explain yourself. Get on with it, _mage_," Fenris snarled, though he made sure to keep his voice down.

"So, we're back to that, instead of my name?" Anders scoffed, but his voiced wavered.

"Perhaps _whore_ would be better? It's just as accurate," the elf replied with a sneer. Anders sighed, but kept his eyes on Fenris.

"I sincerely regret what I did with Hawke-"

"While perhaps I believe that Hawke kissed you first, _because _of the drink you plied him with, don't lie to me about your so-called regret," Fenris snarled. "You've made it no secret that you've long wanted to be the one he shared his bed with."

"While it's true that I've wanted him for all these years, that doesn't mean I don't regret what happened. He came to _me_. For one brief moment I felt as if my dreams had been answered. The man I had fallen completely and hopelessly in love with was touching me-"

"Anders..." Fenris warned off further intimate details despite his earlier wish to have them spoken. Anders narrowed his eyes.

"He let me think I had a chance, and then he turned from me and fled back to you."

"As well he should."

"Try to see it from my perspective Fenris, please," Anders pleaded. "I felt so used. That he would come to me during an argument with you, take his liberties with me, then cast me aside without a thought..." the mage's voice trailed off as his eyes grew wet. "I hated him for a long time after that. I wish I had been stronger and rebuffed him that night. Do you think I wanted the pain of rejection?"

"No," Fenris murmured, though his green eyes remained hostile.

"Then believe me when I say that I regret that night," Anders urged.

"So be it," Fenris growled. "The bed you're sitting on is mine now," he added all of a sudden.

"Excuse me?"

"You've slept in this one already. I'd prefer the other," Fenris stated firmly.

"Need I remind you that you also slept in-"

"Shut your mouth, Anders!" Fenris snarled. "You will never speak of that again, or we _will _come to blows," the elf warned as he quickly stood.

"Fine, it never happened!" Anders snapped. The mage held Fenris's gaze until the elf muttered something under his breath and turned away. Fenris walked toward the door, prompting Anders to ask, "where are you going?"

"Anywhere as long as it's away from you," Fenris replied angrily without turning around. Anders watched in silence as the elf swung the door open, stepped across the threshold, then slammed it shut behind him.

* * *

"Who wants to fly a kite?" Feynriel asked out of the blue with a sudden grin. Merrill gasped. Her delighted expression was in stark contrast to the tracks of tears that were still fresh on her face. She gasped again when the blond dreamer waved one hand and conjured a large kite in the shape of a swallowtail butterfly.

"I would love to! The Dalish don't have kites. I tried making one with leaves but I could never get it to fly without magic and that felt like cheating. Even then, I could never get them to go very high!" Merrill rambled at rapid speed, then clapped her hands in glee.

"Don't mind if I do," Varric said with a nod. Feynriel turned an expectant expression to Hawke and Isabela.

"I'd like to enjoy the scenery for a moment, actually," Hawke declined politely.

"Same here," Isabela remarked. "And what lovely scenery it is," she added as she gazed at the nude male fountain statue.

"Okay," Feynriel said with a hint of disappointment, then led the dwarf and Dalish elf into the topiary-filled lawn.

Hawke remained on the steps of the manor and watched as Feynriel released the kite into the gentle breeze. It caught the wind easily and began its ascent after a near-collision with the large dragon topiary that stood a stone's throw from the manor entrance. Swallowtails were Merrill's favorite butterfly judging from the bits of conversation that Hawke could glean from that distance. After the kite reached a sufficient height, Feynriel nodded at the elf and handed her the line and reel. Merrill wasn't prepared for the strong pull of the kite and almost lost her hold, but both Feynriel and Varric instantly helped her steady the reel. The trio laughed and smiles were shared all around. The dwarf and the elf both turned their attention back to the kite, but the half-elf's attention remained on Merrill for a moment longer before turning his eyes skyward.

"He has a beautiful smile," Isabela mused, drawing Hawke's gaze to the side. She was sitting at the nearest fountain, trailing her fingers through the shallow pool of water at the statue's feet.

"And a slight crush on our Merrill," Hawke murmured.

"Speaking of crush, that's what Carver would do to Feynriel if he were here," Isabela chuckled.

"No doubt," Hawke agreed.

"I'm still somewhat surprised at that. Carver and Merrill." Isabela smirked and shook her head.

"I was, too. It just seemed so unlikely until Varric reminded me of my own unexpected relationship with a certain mage-hating elf," Hawke said with a grin, though his expression soon fell. "Maker's breath, I miss Fenris so much it hurts."

"I'm sorry Hawke. I never meant for any of this to happen," Isabela said softly.

"I know. Besides, if anyone is to blame, it's me," Hawke replied with a deep sigh.

"How do figure?" The pirate blinked her eyes in surprise. "Varric told me all about that night at your estate. Anders should've known better than to kiss you."

"Well..." Hawke's voice trailed off as Isabela continued.

"When Fenris heard about _our _single night together, he warned me to never attempt a repeat performance," Isabela said with an irritated sigh. "I'm just glad it happened well before you two made things official. Your elf is incredibly sexy when he's angry, but even I know better than to cross him."

"I shouldn't have led Anders on," Hawke remarked with a slight wince. "If I hadn't, none of this would have happened. Anders wouldn't have felt the need to leave Kirkwall and Fenris wouldn't have chased him onto a blight slave ship."

"Oh pshaw!" Isabela huffed. "First of all, we still don't know exactly why Anders left so suddenly. Maybe it had nothing to do with you. Second, he shouldn't have taken your flirting so seriously!"

"I slept with him... well in a manner of speaking," Hawke admitted. Isabela's mouth dropped for a moment before she recovered with a look of sheer glee.

"Do tell. In complete and exhaustive detail!"

"Isabela, don't look at me like that. It's hardly as sordid as you're making it out to be."

"So what is this 'in a manner of speaking'? Did you two play 'pole in the hole' or not?"

"My cock, his mouth." Hawke relented, knowing Isabela wouldn't rest until she got at least that much information. The pirate squealed almost like Merrill.

"More!" Isabela demanded.

"And this is where we change the subject," Hawke muttered. Isabela gave him an indignant huff, then flicked droplets of water at him from the fountain.

"Spoilsport."

"Did I ever tell you that I thought Carver was in love with Aveline?" Hawke asked as he wiped the drops of water away.

"No..." Isabela scoffed, though her eyes held enough interest in the notion to let the change of subject stand.

"Oh yes. I thought he was trying to follow in her late husband's footsteps, so to speak," Hawke elaborated. "Wesley and Carver even shared a bit of a resemblance," he added.

"Hmmm... what about _you_ and Aveline?" Isabela asked with a flash of curiosity in her eyes.

"What? No! She's like a sister!"

"I'd say she's more like a brother," Isabela retorted. Hawke rolled his eyes. "I say that with love," the pirate added with a wistful smile. "As much as it pains me to say this, and you had better not share this with her... I miss Lady Manhands something fierce."

"Same," Hawke said solemnly.

"Speaking of people we miss, it's too bad we didn't bring Sebastian along," Isabela mused with a hungry look on her face.

"The prince has more than his fair share of burdens. It didn't feel right to ask him to accompany us."

"A pity that," Isabela murmured before fixing the brunet mage with a quizzical look. "You don't think he and the Grand Cleric have... well, you know."

"What about the Grand Cleric?" Feynriel asked, startling both Hawke and Isabela. Neither had seen him approach. Merrill and Varric were still flying the kite, though with far less success in Feynriel's absence.

"Oh, Isabela was just admiring her sense of fashion," the Champion said quickly.

"Don't clerics always wear the same robes day in and day out?" Feynriel asked with a puzzled look.

"It's all about the accessories!" Isabela beamed.

"Oh." Feynriel considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt but I'd like to talk to Hawke for a moment."

"He's all yours," Isabela replied with smile. She wiped her damp hands on her tunic, then stood. "It's high time I show Merrill and Varric how to fly a kite. It's just a type of sail, after all," the pirate added. Feynriel admired her form as she sauntered over to the dwarf and elf, then turned back to Hawke.

"And here I thought you had eyes just for the Dalish lass," Hawke remarked with a smirk. The blond apprentice blushed.

"Both women are lovely in their own ways," Feynriel replied with a shy grin.

"Indeed they are," Hawke agreed. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"A great many things," Feynriel stated with an unreadable expression. "But first, I want to show you something."

"Lead the way," Hawke urged. The young blond stepped into the manor with the brunet following closely behind. The greeting hall was similar to the one in Hawke's mansion, though it was noticeably larger. Various shades of green dominated, along with dark brown accents that gave the villa's interior a decidely sylvan feel. The effect was heightened by the leaf designs etched into the walls and ceilings at regular intervals.

Feynriel led Hawke down a short hallway that opened into an immense room that was lit by a single magical orb that hovered close to the ceiling. The walls of the room were covered with portraits, easily numbering over three dozen in total. Various styles of art, from charcoal impressionistic sketches to hyper-realistic oil paintings, vied for Hawke's attention. A few of the portrait subjects were clearly humans or elves, but the vast majority exhibited a mixture of features that flowed from one end of the human-elf continuum to the other.

"Feynriel... this collection... it's beautiful," Hawke said in awe as his gaze traveled from one portrait to another.

"I hated myself, you know," Feynriel whispered, drawing the brunet mage's eyes.

"We mages are taught to hate ourselves from a very early age," Hawke murmured, but the blond shook his head.

"I didn't mean that, though I hated that part of myself, too. I meant being a half-elf. Or half-human, as the Dalish called me," Feynriel said with narrowed eyes. "For so long I wished I could just be one or the other. Not stuck in between and ugly to all."

"Feynriel, ugly is the last thing I would use to describe you," Hawke said with disbelief.

"Thanks to you, I now feel the same way," the young man said with a cracking voice. Before Hawke knew it, Feynriel was embracing him with near-bruising force. The blond finally pulled back and looked at the brunet with damp eyes. "I meant to say this earlier, but I wanted to get your friends settled in the dream first. I never would have made it here had it not been for you. You believed in me when I had lost all faith in myself. I owe you more than can ever be repaid."

"I'd say you're doing quite a good job at the moment," Hawke quipped.

"I wish I could do more," Feynriel said, his voice gaining a bitter note.

"Regardless, you have my thanks many times over," the brunet mage replied softly before looking back at the portraits surrounding them. Silence reigned until Feynriel whispered something under his breath. Hawke turned to find him holding a massive, unadorned tome.

"Do you remember when I mentioned that Magister Aurelius was working on a book?"

"The Scions of Arlathan, if I recall correctly?"

"Yes." Feynriel nodded and held the book out to Hawke. "The original text is in Arcanum, but here's a draft of the Common translation."

"It's pretty big," Hawke remarked as he held it along with Feynriel. "And heavy!" He added once the apprentice let go.

"Fenris wasn't the first elf to be branded with lyrium," Feynriel stated with a hesitant breath. Hawke's heartbeat quickened.

"I know." Hawke lifted a brow at the sudden mention of his lover. "His former master told him that many others died during the process."

"I don't mean that," Feyrniel said with a firm shake of his head. "There were others like Fenris in the final days of Arlathan. Known as the Lyrium Ghosts, they were among those few who stayed and fought to the bitter end."

"How could the elves do that to their own kind?" Hawke asked in horror. "The creation of each Lyrium Ghost would mean countless deaths. And the pain... it was enough to burn away Fenris's memories!"

"The magister must not have known the full process and instead relied on trial and error. In the old days, while it was definitely painful, it was not fatal, at least as far as Aurelius's research into historical records could determine."

"Then why was there not an entire army of such beings? Fenris alone is a terror on the battlefield. Surely they could have tipped the balance of power with enough Lyrium Ghosts."

"There was another idea that took hold at the same time. Unfortunately, it was mutually exclusive with the lyrium-branding process," Feynriel explained. "You're personally familiar with this one, as well."

"What do you mean?" Hawke asked with furrowed brows.

"Turn to page one hundred and sixty-three," Feynriel urged. Hawke quickly began to thumb through the large tome until he reached the aforementioned page.

"_**While the Lyrium Ghosts showed promise, lyrium itself was in short supply, as the dwarves had thrown their lot in with the Imperium. However there was another path. While the old gods had turned their backs on the elves, there were beings of the Fade who took pity. Spirits of retribution and justice found willing hosts and empowered them for the coming battle." **_

"Like Anders..." Hawke whispered as he continued to read.

"_**However, the so-called Spirit Warriors and Lyrium Ghosts were unable to come to an accord. Perhaps if it had been possible to be both, the rivalry could have been avoided. For though the lyrium enticed the spirits, it also prevented possession by them. Each group felt they were the answer to the coming crisis and eschewed the aid of the other. Lacking unity, each fell separately to the Imperium's forces..."**_

Hawke's perusal of the text was interrupted by a splotch of red that appeared on the page. Another followed before he recognized that it was blood. Yet another fell to the page before he realized it was his own.

"Hawke..."

"Don't worry Feynriel. It's just a nosebleed!" Hawke assured him as he swiped at his nose. "And this is all in the Fade, so the actual draft is fine..." the mage hesitated at the look of fright on the apprentice's face. "The real draft _is_ fine, right?"

"The dragon mark is bleeding, not your nose," the apprentice explained with widened eyes.

"Feynriel..." Hawke dropped the book as the bridge of his nose began to heat up. The tingling quickly escalated until the mage dropped onto all fours. "It... burns..." he managed to cough out as his entire body trembled.

"Hawke! Stay with me!" Feynriel dropped to his knees and held the Champion's head firmly with both hands. The swipe across Hawke's nose was now glowing and bleeding enough to create a small pool at their feet. The blond apprentice closed his eyes and began to chant in Arcanum. A soft blue glow enveloped his hands, then spread over the bloody swipe on Hawke's face. Crimson and blue warred with each other, never quite blending into a shade of violet. For a moment, the blue of Feynriel's palms held sway, but then the malevolent red spread to the Champion's eyes. The scene around him began to grow hazy, akin to how the Fade normally appeared, and then it disappeared completely...


	19. Will of the Imperium

**Chapter 19: Will of the Imperium**

Anders's shoulders jerked at the sound of the door slamming shut. He looked down at his fists, which were clenched so tight that the knuckles were white. The only sound in the cottage was his harsh breath until he growled and reached for the pillow of what was now Fenris's bed. He bunched the cushion in his hand and strained his fingers at the fabric of the pillowcase, taken by a sudden urge to rip it apart. He made a frustrated noise that was half a grunt, half a hiss, then threw the pillow at the door. His aim was completely off and it smacked against the wall to the left of the door instead. This only served to make him angrier and he clutched at his head and gritted his teeth.

"Fucking, blighted elf!" Anders glanced around at something else to throw at the door, then settled on his sandals.

"Mrrrow?" Mab's head brushed against his left arm just as he was grabbing for the sandal on his right foot. The feel of her soft fur on his skin instantly took the edge off of the mage's anger.

"Sorry Mab, I suppose chucking a sandal at the door wouldn't do much good, now would it?" He put his foot back down and pulled the cat onto his lap. He scratched under her chin, then allowed her to get comfortable.

"_It was not wise to incite the elf_," Justice murmured.

"Really? How do you figure? Because that _never_ would have occurred to me!" Anders said aloud. Mab tensed and looked poised to leap away. "Sorry, I wasn't talking to you," the mage assured her and stroked the top of her head.

"_Sarcasm doesn't become you_," the spirit replied.

"_And mentioning the obvious does you no favors, either_," Anders thought in return.

"_There was no need to reveal the past liaison with Hawke_," Justice remarked.

"It was an accident, in case you didn't notice," the mage grumbled out loud, then cooed at Mab so she wouldn't think it was directed at her.

"_You should be more careful,_" Justice reminded him with a stern voice.

"_I know. Now can we talk about something else, or better yet, nothing at all_?"

"_I will leave you be, but do your best to get back in the elf's good graces."_

"_I'd rather he just fuck off and leave me alone._"

"_Anders_..."

"_At least give me a day or so, Justice! I thought you immortal spirits were all about patience. He can't even stand to be in my presence right now. In fact, the feeling is quite mutual._"

"_I warned you about giving yourself to Hawke that night, but you didn't listen_."

"_Justice, just shut up. You're really not helping right now._"

"_So be it._"

Anders frowned and awaited another unnecessary pearl of wisdom from Justice, but when none was forthcoming, the mage settled back into petting his now purring cat. As her entire body thrummed under his palm and against his lap, the mage's mind began to drift. He recalled a time, long ago, with another cat that he still missed dearly.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Mab," Anders whispered. The black cat's purring intensified in response to her name and she looked up with half-closed eyes. "But I wish Ser Pounce-a-lot were here, too..." his voice trailed off as he thought about the playful orange tabby. He gave a deep sigh, then added, "the Wardens made me give him up. The bastards." Anders narrowed his eyes at the memory. "Regardless of everything else I think about the Qunari, at least they let me keep you," Anders murmured. "I think you and Ser Pounce-a-lot would have gotten along just swimmingly."

"_I disagree. You've seen how other felines avoid her company_," Justice whispered.

"I thought you were going to leave me alone!" Anders said aloud and closed his eyes in annoyance. When the spirit said nothing more, the mage looked down at his cat and tickled one ear. She flicked it rapidly, then extended her claws just slightly through the mage's breeches. He got the hint and left her ear alone in favor of scratching her chin again. "Justice is just jealous that I like you better than him," Anders added audibly. "Really, you and Ser Pounce-a-lot-" the mage was interrupted by a firm knock at the door. He froze for a moment when he remembered he was alone in the cottage except for Mab. The cat picked up on his tension and uncurled herself. There was another knock.

"Who's-" the mage's voice cracked slightly from fear. Anders cleared his throat and asked with forced calm, "who's there?"

"It's Lanreth."

"One moment," Anders replied with relief. He gently set Mab aside, then walked to the door. When he opened it, he found the redheaded, freckled elf standing on the patio with a large open basket in hand. Anders glanced inside of it and saw four covered enamel bowls. Two were double the size of the other pair, but all were part of a matching set, with a white ceramic base and dotted with lapis lazuli leaves. The blond caught a whiff of the familiar scent of coconut, along with what smelled like lemon.

"I didn't see either of you at the market square, so I thought I would bring you and Fenris lunch," Lanreth offered as he nodded to the basket.

"Oh, he's not here," Anders tried to say without a grimace. He wasn't quite successful.

"Who were you talking to, then?" Lanreth asked as he peeked over the blond's shoulder.

"Mab."

"Who?"

"My cat," Anders elaborated.

"Ah," Lanreth said with a slight raise of a brow, but the smile on his face was warm. "Tieral is more than willing to finish a second portion, but would you like yours?"

"Yes, thank you," Anders replied as his stomach lurched with a hunger that had gone completely unnoticed until the arrival of food. "That was very thoughtful of you," the blond added and stepped aside. "Please come in."

"The food is... very different from what I'm accustomed to, but it's still rather good," Lanreth said as he walked in. He gave a puzzled look at the pillow on the floor near the door, then turned to the small table ahead of him. Anders bent down and picked Fenris's pillow up, then tossed it back to the bed. Mab opened one eye when the pillow hit the mattress, but then returned to her nap. Anders envied her ability to seemingly doze at will, but then a rumble from his stomach brought his attention back to Lanreth's offering.

"It definitely smells good, whatever it is," Anders agreed. He politely pulled out a chair for his guest and only sat down once the elf had done so first.

"The Qunari call it curry," Lanreth remarked as he set one of the larger bowls on the table. "The cook told me the Qunari learned it first from the humans of Par Vollen," the elf added. The curry was still hot enough to release a puff of steam when Lanreth lifted the lid off. The blond began to salivate at what looked like a green stew of sorts, chock full of red bell peppers and what appeared to be strips of chicken, along with several other vegetables he was completely unfamiliar with.

"Curry, you say?" Anders furrowed his brows. "I've heard of this before." The blond recoiled just a bit, despite his hunger. "The spices used in it are said to burn the mouth."

"Ah yes, the cook mentioned that. This curry is suitable for viddathari and small children, or so she said," Lanreth assured him with a grin. He pulled a spoon from the basket and handed it to the blond.

"That _is_ chicken right?" Anders poked at the meat gingerly. He had heard many tales of the Qunari eating all sorts of exotic tropical meats, like crocodile and snake. Supposedly both tasted just like chicken, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to put that theory to the test.

"It is indeed." Lanreth nodded. "The food cart had many varieties of curry with all sorts of meats, as well as one with this ingredient called bean curd, which she said was preferred by those Qunari who do not eat animals of any kind."

"Some don't eat meat at all?" Anders scratched his head. "That's odd."

"Agreed," Lanreth said with an emphatic nod. "Of all the choices, the chicken seemed the safest bet, as I was unsure of your preferences."

"Good man," Anders grinned and slowly dipped the spoon into the green curry. He then lifted it up, gave a quick, cooling breath, then took a taste. The blond moaned and closed his eyes as the riot of flavors ran over his tongue. It was both sweet and savory, with just a touch of sour and a prickling of spicy heat. The richness of the coconut milk gave the chicken a wonderful mouth feel, while the still-crisp vegetables provided a pleasant contrast to the fragrant broth.

"My reaction, exactly," Lanreth chuckled. "The Orlesians say that chocolate is better than sex. I'm inclined to say the same for curry."

"What's... mmm..." Anders moaned again in pleasure, then nodded to the smaller bowls. "What's in those?"

"Oh!" Lanreth nodded and placed a half-sized bowl next to the larger one in front of Anders. "The Qunari don't eat much bread as far as I can tell. Wheat probably doesn't grow very well in this hot, humid climate. They prefer what I believe is called rice," the elf explained as he lifted the lid to reveal a bowl full of pearly-white grains.

"Ah... I've had this before," Anders said with a nod. "I found it rather plain by itself, but with this curry..." Anders followed a scoop of rice with another bite of the Qunari stew, "it balances the strong flavors really well."

"And to think, food of this caliber is all completely free!" Lanreth exclaimed and shook his head in disbelief.

"Too true. I still don't understand how the Qunari get by without any currency," Anders mused between bites of the delectable chicken curry.

"With delicious food like this, I don't really much care," Lanreth chortled. Anders joined him in his mirth.

"Would you like some?" The blond offered.

"No thank you, I had plenty already." The redhead raised a palm and shook his head. He looked around the cottage again, then turned back to Anders. "So where _is _Fenris?"

"I don't know," Anders muttered before he had a chance to feign indifference. Lanreth caught the angry look that flitted across the blond's face. Ginger brows lifted in curiosity, while blue eyes studied Anders in silence for a moment.

"Is everything alright between the two of you?"

"Not exactly," Anders sighed, too weary to lie.

"The two of you seem to have a... complicated relationship," Lanreth mused as he looked over at the beds. His gaze paused noticeably at the one bed that had been slept in.

"You could say that," Anders murmured. "_Ugh, I need to make that bed_," the mage added inwardly.

"Did you recently have a quarrel?" The redhead placed his left elbow on the table and rested his chin on the open palm.

"Yes," Anders admitted. "But I really don't want to talk about it, if that's okay," he quickly added.

"Of course. Sorry for prying," Lanreth apologized and lifted his head from his hand. "Though, speaking of quarrels, I hope my brother and I didn't wake you this morning."

"Huh?" Anders tilted his head slightly. "I didn't hear anything."

"That's a relief," Lanreth sighed. "I suppose the storm drowned the noise out."

"Indeed," Anders took a big bite of curry and tried not to think about what he and Fenris had been doing in the middle of that morning storm.

"As much as I love my brother, he can really get under my skin sometimes. He carries this unreasonable prejudice against all humans."

"I've noticed," Anders muttered, remembering well the injuries Esteban had suffered from the angry auburn-haired elf. "I don't mean to cut you off, but have you seen Esteban?"

"The Rivaini cabin boy?" Lanreth asked. Anders nodded.

"Yes, he was with Adrian in the market square last I saw."

"Did he look well?"

"He was all smiles," Lanreth was pleased to say.

"Good!" Anders beamed. "Have you ever heard of how the Dalish came to Llomerryn?"

"No, I can't say that I have." Lanreth gave Anders a puzzled look at the sudden change in topic. "All I know is that the city is host to the largest Dalish camp in Thedas. Why do you ask?"

"Esteban told me all about it. It's quite a tale. Care for a story?"

"That would be lovely. Usually _I'm_ the one telling the stories, so this is quite a treat," Lanreth grinned and leaned back in his chair. Anders finished his final bite of curry, then set his spoon down.

"According to Esteban, it all started with a Dalish boy who fell head over heels for a Rivaini lass. She was as ravishing and dark as the elf was shy and fair..."

* * *

"And so though the Rivaini of Llomeryn and the Dalish disagreed on a great many things, none could deny the depth of love between the pair," Anders explained, nearing the end of the tale. "Dalish custom dictated that the wife of the Keeper's son live with his family. However, the girl's family was loathe to part with their daughter. As she was from a wealthy merchant family, her mother and father bestowed gift upon gift to the Dalish, including rich farm land and access to prime fishing grounds."

"Can you imagine a merchant family from Kirkwall doing that?" Lanreth's eyes widened at the thought and laughed at how ludicrious it sounded. "They would have gelded the Dalish boy and sent their daughter to live out the rest of her life as a Chantry nun!"

"Too true!" Anders laughed along with the elf.

"Sorry, continue," Lanreth urged. Anders grinned and nodded.

"A compromise was struck where most of the elves would continue with their nomadic way of life, but the Keeper's son and his Rivaini wife, along with a few others, would always remain at the camp in Llomeryn. They would oversee its upkeep in preparation for the Keeper's yearly return. And to this day, there is always at least one aravel outside of the city, even when the rest of the land ships depart for a time."

"Such a wonderful country, Rivain," Lanreth murmured as he shifted in his seat and thrummed the top of the table with his fingers. "It really did seem to be the best of all possible choices when leaving Kirkwall. But this? I never knew what kind of paradise existed on Seheron."

"_Paradise_, yes..." Anders forced a smile that was a bit too bright, but Lanreth took it to be completely sincere. Had the elf been privy to the apostate's thoughts, Lanreth would have seen a brief image of Anders bound with his arms behind his back and his mouth sewn shut.

"No poverty, no slavery, free food that could easily satisfy a noble, it's just..." Lanreth shook his head in bewilderment. "I feel like this is all a dream, and I'm frightened that I'll wake up back on that slave ship."

"It's not a dream. You're safe," Anders assured the elf, though he had a sudden flash of memory of Montoya's head on a pike. He shivered at the thought, even as his heart ached for his former lover. Anders felt a pang of guilt that he could miss the captain. That soon turned to bitterness toward both Hawke and Fenris as the mage pondered how only a slaver had ever showered him with open affection. And then Anders blanched at how easily he had grouped Fenris along with Hawke in his thoughts. There was a sudden knock at the door which caused both the blond and the redhead to jump in their seats a bit.

"Anders? It's Adrian," the kenathari called from outside.

"And Esteban!" The former cabin boy piped up. Anders smiled and pushed himself from the table. Lanreth stood as well, and together they walked to the doorway. He swung the heavy door inward to find Adrian flanked by Esteban along with the rest of the viddathari from the Osprey, as well as four horned guards. The Rivaini boy gave Anders an excited wave just as the door on the other side of the patio opened. Esteban's expression fell as soon as he caught sight of Tieral. A brief glance was the only attention the surly, auburn-haired elf gave the boy.

"I thought I heard people outside," Tieral remarked with a slight yawn. He stretched for a moment, then joined the gathering. Greetings were shared all around before Anders thought to close the door. Just as he took hold of the knob, Mab raced by. There were a few yelps of surprise at the black streak underfoot, followed by laughter when everyone realized it was just a cat. Anders didn't pay too much heed to her departure, as he knew full well that Mab could take care of herself. He shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it, even though that hadn't done much good earlier.

"The Tamassran has issued her summons," Adrian said as he stepped off the patio. "Come this way, please," he urged. The viddathari fell in step with their mentor, while the guards took position at the four corners of the group. The ground was still wet and the air smelled of the recent rain. There were still a few dark clouds in the sky, but the sun was shining bright.

Anders has expected them to be taken toward the market, but they were heading in the opposite direction. Other denizens of the town filled the streets, with most traveling the same way. As the group of viddathari traveled in relative silence, the white marble buildings of Meha-Shenaas became more sparse and spread-out. Rather than a meeting place central to the town, it appeared that the Tamassran's gathering was being held outside of it.

They passed the last building and even the cobblestone road came to an end. The wide dirt path ahead was still clear. The jungles of Seheron loomed less than half a league away. On either side of the path were tall coconut trees, though the scent of the coconuts wasn't nearly as strong as in the town itself, where the fruits were actually opened.

Anders felt the sunshine on his bare torso intermittently due to the shade of the trees and their wide palm fronds. The heat on his shoulders reminded the blond that he needed to talk to Adrian about getting a few light tunics. None had been provided with the clothing bundle the fair-skinned mage had received back at the bath house. Anders squinted up at the sun and wagered that Spring on Seheron was more than a match for the hottest Ferelden Summers. He was in no mood for a sunburn, but there wasn't much he could do at the moment.

"I bet I know what my role will be here," Esteban remarked from the mage's left. The Rivaini boy was looking up at the trees that were gently swaying in the soft island breeze.

"And what would that be?" Anders asked, though his question was as much for himself as for Esteban. His life had been so utterly dictated by magic that he was at a complete loss as to what occupation he would be suited for without it.

"I've already tried climbing those," Esteban motioned with his thumb to the coconut palms. "No pegs like the main mast on a ship, but the bark is rough and easy to hold onto."

"What about the way the trees bend in the wind?" Anders raised a brow slightly. He wasn't afraid of heights, but the trees of Southern Thedas seemed far more stable and safer to climb.

"The mast on a ship rocks back and forth with the waves," the young seafarer reminded the blond. "It's just like climbing to the crow's nest," Esteban paused and smirked before adding, "minus the cats."

"True that!" Anders chuckled and took heart in the fact that the boy had not only recovered physically from his frightening fall. He reached over and tousled Esteban's dark hair. The boy grinned for a moment, but then a more serious look crossed his face.

"Did something happen between you and Fenris?" He whispered. Anders frowned, but said nothing. "I saw him in the market square when I was getting lunch, but he looked really angry, so I didn't approach him."

"We had an argument," Anders explained.

"You two do that a lot," Esteban observed.

"He stepped on my cat," the blond replied.

"Fenris stepped on your cat?" Lanreth gasped from behind Anders. The redhead quickened his pace until he was even with the other man. "No wonder you two argued!"

"Is Mab okay?" Esteban looked horrified. Anders pushed away the slight bit of guilt he felt at the lie. Even if they hadn't been out in the open and walking along with much of the town's populace nearby, Anders wasn't keen on sharing the real reasons for his quarrel with either of his friends.

"She's fine. She yowled before he could put any real weight behind his step," Anders assured them.

"Well, that's a relief," Lanreth said.

"We had a bit of a shouting match over it, though, and he isn't talking to me." Anders shrugged. "He's got a bit of a temper."

"I hope he knows to come to this gathering. It probably wouldn't look too good for him to be the only viddathari absent," the redheaded elf remarked as he looked around. Anders did the same. His heart skipped a beat when he caught a glimpse of white hair amidst a group of guards not too far behind them. The tall Qunari obscured his view, but then Anders finally saw that Fenris was indeed with them.

Fenris looked even less-pleased than usual, though the brooding elf's expression paled in comparison to the one on Sten's face. Rather than his customary position at the front, the leader of the town guard was at the rear of the group, right behind Fenris. Despite their earlier argument, Anders was seized with worry. He actually turned fully around and began to walk backwards so that he could get a better look. Anders felt a small touch of relief when he saw that Fenris's right arm was still in the sling, which meant that at least he wasn't bound. Still, Sten looked like he wanted to bash the elf's skull in. Suddenly the deep green eyes locked onto the mage. Anders abruptly turned on his heels, in no mood for the sudden scrutiny. The hairs on the back of the blond's neck prickled at the knowledge that Fenris was now gazing his way, but Anders resisted the urge to take another look.

"I take it you saw Fenris?" Lanreth whispered. Anders nodded. Due to the hardened look on the blond's face, neither Lanreth nor Esteban pushed the subject further. They remained silent as they followed the crowd that was starting to thin ahead of them. Anders blinked in surprise as he noticed several people ahead of their group drop from sight. Then he saw why.

Ahead of the viddathari was a massive white marble amphitheatre. It seemed large enough to hold hundreds of visitors if not a thousand. All along the outskirts were broken and defaced statues, serving as a testament to the Qunari disdain for the graven images of the Imperium. The large marble steps doubled as seats as people filed in and spread out. At the very center, surrounded by a ring of grates, was a raised dais with a large, unadorned stone slab. In front of the marble block sat three people in a matching set of large teakwood chairs. Anders instantly recognized the men on the left and right as Braith and Enric, respectively. The mage couldn't help but smirk when he noticed the severe black eye and split lip that Enric was now sporting. Anders wondered for a moment if Fenris was responsible, but the mage's attention soon shifted to the imposing horned woman seated between the two elves. She could be none other than the Tamassran, a fact that was confirmed by the whisperings of nearby townsfolk.

The garb of the spiritual leader of Meha-Shenaas wasn't all that different from the style of other Qunari women. A white swath of fabric covered her bosom, secured with a tucked-in loop over her right shoulder, while a vibrant, multicolored wrap skirt covered her legs. Around her waist was a thin leather belt with a sheathed dagger attached.

The Tamassran's swepted back hair was bone-white and plaited in three large braids. A gleaming triangular pendant rested on her forehead, suspended from a thin silver chain that encircled her head. While many of the other kossith had a grey tone to their skin, hers was a deep bronze. Her skin glistened in the sunlight and gave her the appearance of a mighty statue, though the piercing golden eyes that suddenly looked over at Anders broke the illusion. The blond averted his gaze on instinct, then looked again a moment later. Her attention was now on Martus, the healer of Meha-Shenaas, as he approached the dais.

"This way," Adrian motioned to the viddathari. "Our seats have been reserved at the front."

The group of the newly converted made their way through the crowd, then sat down in a semi-circle in the first two rows. Anders was near the left edge of the party, with Esteban to his right and Lanreth and Tieral to his left.

"Your missing viddathari," Sten growled, drawing the mage's eyes to the right. Adrian faced the leader of the town guard as Fenris slipped through the line of Sten's armed men.

"I was already on my way here. Everyone in town was headed in the same direction," Fenris growled as he joined Adrian's side. The kenathari gave the elf a sharp look, then turned back to the warhammer-wielding Qunari.

"Thank you, Sten," Adrian said with a clipped tone. He and Fenris sat down at the other end of the front row from Anders. Sten narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing more and walked over to the dais. He set his sandaled feet shoulder-width apart and held his massive warhammer to his chest as he took up position below and in front of the Tamassran. Martus stood to Sten's left, while a horned woman stood to his right. She held what at first looked like an artist's palette in her left hand. However, instead of paint, it had a single inkwell set at the top, while a sheet of parchment covered the rest. More sheaves of rolled parchment could be seen jutting from a wicker basket at the scribe's feet.

Anders could easily look over at Fenris due to the semi-circle the viddathari sat in, though he kept his glances furtive. The elf caught him looking twice, but Anders looked away before he could see what was sure to be a sour frown.

"So good of you to finally join me here, Sten," the Tamassran's voice boomed, heightened by the acoustics of the amphitheatre. The murmurs of the crowd dropped instantly in volume, though the ambient hum of movement continued as more people entered. Sten's shoulders visibly tensed.

"_Anok suun_-"

"You will reply in words the viddathari can understand, and you will face me when answering!" The Tamassran demanded. Sten's jaw clenched as he swallowed his original words, then turned to the priestess.

"I was delayed. My apologies."

"Delayed in what way?" The Tamassran's voice took on a sharp edge.

"I escorted a wayward viddathari here," Sten explained.

"Did either viddathari or kenathari request your aid?"

"No," Sten replied after a long pause.

"And is _this_ your role?" The priestess's golden eyes flashed and her fingers tensed on the armrests of her chair. Sten shifted on his feet slightly.

"No, but-"

"No, it is _not_!" The Tamassran pushed off from her chair and stood to her full height. She glared at the man before her in fury and asked, "are you Sten or kenathari?"

"I am Sten," he answered with a hitch in his voice.

"Then remember your role and leave the care of viddathari to those who have been given the designation to do so!" The Tamassran clenched one fist and shook her head in anger, her triangle pendant catching the light of the sun. "In the short time I have been gone, so many have lost their direction," the priestess remarked in a harsh voice as she glanced down at Enric, who visibly gulped. She then turned her golden eyes back to Sten. "Now turn from my sight and assume your proper role once more!" The Tamassran ordered.

"I obey the vessel of the Qun," Sten replied with a bow. He turned back around with a reddened face.

"I didn't even know Qunari were capable of blushing," Lanreth whispered to Anders, who nodded.

"Same here..." the blond's voice trailed off when Sten glared their way. Behind him the spiritual leader of Meha-Shenaas resumed her seat.

The din of the crowd increased in volume again when it was clear that the Tamassran's outburst wasn't the start of the actual service. The priestess of the Qun said nothing more for quite some time as the amphitheatre filled to capacity. Anders felt eyes on him, but when he glanced at Fenris, the elf was looking up at the sky. The blond rolled his eyes.

"Subtlety is not your strong suit," Anders whispered to himself.

"What?" Both Lanreth and Esteban asked.

"Sorry, just talking to myself," Anders murmured. Lanreth seemed about to add something, but was silenced when the Tamassran stood up again. A deep hush fell over the assembled crowd once more.

"As is our custom for the first service attended by viddathari, I shall speak in a tongue they can comprehend," the Tamassran's powerful voice filled the air. Her words were instantly translated into the Qunari language by Martus, while the scribe on the other side of Sten quickly set quill to parchment.

"Arigena." The Tamassran traced a diagonal line in the air downward as the crowd repeated the word. "Arishok," she added as her palm shifted upwards and the crowd echoed again. "Ariqun," the Tamassran intoned while drawing a line at the top, completing the triangle. The crowd answered back, their unified voices shaking the very stone underfoot.

"Mind, Body, and Soul, the three pillars of the Qun," the Tamassran explained as her eyes swept over the viddathari seated before her. In the pause, Martus translated for the majority of the crowd. "None can exist without the other. Together, they create the whole. For years there was chaos after the loss of the Body," the priestess said while punctuating the statement with a sweep of her hand.

"The one clear successor to the role of the Arishok had been killed in battle against the Imperium before he could assume his position," the Tamassran stated in a cold voice. "But finally, after three years of warring candidacies, an assembly was convened on Par Vollen and a new Arishok selected. We are whole once more!" The Tamassran clenched her fist and looked out across the crowd. Once Martus translated her words, there with shouts of exultation.

"And yet, when I returned to Meha-Shenaas with my heart full of hope, I found my very home seized by the chaos I thought had been put to rest!" The priestess's eyes flashed in anger. "Qunari attacking Qunari while under the thrall of divisions that have no place here!" Rumblings of discontent followed Martus's translation, while the Tamassran pointed to Enric. "In this case, the victimizer quickly became the victimized. A kenathari who attacked a viddathari for past deeds was himself set upon this morning by those who desired vengeance against the so-called Fog Warriors."

"Serves him right," Anders whispered. Lanreth and Esteban both nodded in agreement. The mage stole a quick glance at Fenris. The blond felt a sharp spike of anger at the look of concern the snow-haired elf was giving to the one who had threatened both of their lives so recently.

"To raise a hand against a fellow Qunari is blasphemy! All parties involved have been warned, but my tolerance for such deeds is at an end! If there is revenge in your hearts, purge it from your being. To strike another Qunari is an assault on our very faith, and that will not stand!" The Tamassran shouted while Martus quickly translated. The priestess let those words sink in as she crossed her arms over her chest. She then turned to Enric and motioned to the crowd with a tilt of the head. The dark-haired elf stood up on shaking legs while clutching his right arm around his ribs. He coughed in pain for a moment, with his eyes to the ground, then looked up.

"I reneged on my sacred vow to care for and guide viddathari on the path to enlightenment," Enric said, then paused and allowed Martus time to translate. "I have shamed myself and my fellow kenathari with my actions," the dark-haired elf glanced over to Braith, then turned and met Adrian's gaze. "I have sullied the act of generosity shown to me when I was at death's door," Enric's voice began to waver as he glanced down at Sten, though the leader of the guard was faced away from him and could not see. "I am sorry for seeking vengeance for the past. I deserved nothing less than to have my own past thrown in my face." Enric's green eyes narrowed as they locked onto Fenris's, then he turned back to the crowd. "I am sorry for raising my blade as a Fog Warrior against the followers of the Qun," he said then paused while Martus caught up with his words. "In my ignorance, I thought my freedom was in as much danger from you as from the Imperium," he stated with a look of shame. The crowd reacted with a mixture of shock and dismay. Several Qunari shouted out questions in their language. Enric blanched, having understood them, but Martus summarized the overlapping questions in Common for the benefit of the viddathari.

"How did you come to live among us?"

"Tamassran, may I answer in Enric's stead?" Sten suddenly asked as he turned around. The priestess nodded. The warrior shared a quick glance with Enric, who returned to his seat, then Sten faced the crowd once more.

* * *

"Sten!" The arvaraad shouted as he rushed to the taller Qunari's side. The shorter soldier was panting from exertion and sweating despite the cool mist surrounding them.

"Report!" Sten demanded impatiently as the arvaraad caught his breath.

"The magister and his men are close by! He has covered their tracks by way of magic, but my saarebas has pinpointed their location!" The soldier pointed through the fog to where the faint outline of the Qunari mage could be seen with his arms outstretched.

"Soldiers! Ready your blades!" Sten called out and motioned them forward. "The magister is our first target. Take him down quickly before concentrating on his men," he reminded his soldiers as they advanced with renewed purpose through the billowing brume. The arvaraad ran ahead of them and squared off with his saarebas. He grabbed hold of the leash and gave it a sharp tug. The Qunari mage nodded and lowered his hands, then stepped past his keeper and strained against the leash like a hound with a scent. The arvaraad waited for Sten and his men to catch up before allowing the saarebas to pull him forward. Together, the leashed mage and his handler pushed through the tendrils of mist that snaked around the trees.

The sounds of battle were soon heard in the distance. Sten gripped the haft of his hammer and quickened his step.

"Fog Warriors?" His second-in-command asked, pulling even with him.

"Undoubtedly. Hopefully we'll catch both sides in the midst of battle and smite them both," Sten replied with a grin. "We should-"

A piercing cry of anguish suddenly rang out, interrupting him. The scream carried such a sound of despair that the Qunari march came to a full stop. Sten had witnessed many battles, but never had he heard such a dreadful wail. It sounded less that of a man and more like a dying animal. Finally the awful cry ceased to echo through the foggy vale.

"Beware! Blood magic is afoot!" Sten warned his men as he led them forward once more. There was renewed shouting up ahead, but the voices seemed to get fainter and fainter. The mist grew even thicker, but the Qunari pressed onward. The damp air now held the coppery scent of blood and Sten's pulse quickened in anticipation. He was so intent on the chase that he failed to notice the root that caught his foot until he was already facedown on the moss-covered forest floor.

The large warrior spat greenery out of his mouth, then reached to his right to retrieve his warhammer. With the sacred weapon back in his hands, he planted the haft in the ground and used it to brace himself as he quickly stood. His men dared not comment on his fall, but when he looked around, he saw that none were looking at him. Sten glanced down at the root, then widened his golden eyes when he saw that he had tripped over a leg instead. The bodies of two elven women lay next to each other. Both of their throats were slashed and their faces frozen in looks of disbelief. The appeared to be related, though Sten found that hard to discern when it came to elves. Still, the sight angered him. It was an unforgivable act for females to be cut down like swine.

The leader of the regiment narrowed his eyes and scrutinized his surroundings carefully. Here, the trees were a bit more sparse. There were several tents scattered about, including one that was quite a bit larger than the rest. Though the fog was still thick, Sten could now see the bodies all around him. Most were elves, though he took note of a few human bodies close by. All were in the unmistakable garb of Tevinter soldiers, save for one that caused Sten to pause. It was of a large, swarthy male who had been disembowled. Where his left eye should have been, there was now only a deep, bloody gouge. The injuries only garned passing notice, as such sights were commonplace on the battlefield. What surprised Sten was that the man was dressed in clothing identical to that of the dead elves. He had always assumed that the Fog Warriors were all elves, but here was clear evidence to the contrary.

"Honored Sten, you should look at this," a nearby voice whispered in shock. The taller Qunari turned to find one of the younger soldiers standing over a headless body. Sten was unsure as to why this body warranted much attention. As with the body of the human Fog Warrior, Sten had long grown accustomed to the sight of such injuries.

"It is a headless husk, nothing more, we should..." Sten's voice fell away as he looked down at the body more closely. The man's hands were missing, but there was no blood. He knelt down beside the body and took hold of one of the dead man's arms. Sten ran his thumb across the scarred skin of the stump where the hand should have been. "This injury is years old."

"They struck down a defenseless cripple?" The soldier whispered in disbelief. "Are they truly so evil?"

"That they are, young one," Sten hissed as he stood back up. He trembled in rage as he glared down at the body. This was not war. This was slaughter. "To strike down someone who cannot even hold a weapon? This is the height of dishonor!" Sten shouted in fury. He tightened his grip and was about to order his men forward, when another call rang out.

"These two are alive!"

Sten turned to find another soldier kneeling over two male elves, one dark-haired and large, the other short and fair. A long crimson streak trailed behind the larger elf. From the way the ground had been disturbed, it was clear that the dark-haired elf had dragged himself to the other. Sten walked over and stared in disgust. The blond elf was missing an arm and the lower part of a leg. The flesh was blackened and gangrenous, and gave off a wretched stench. Sten steeled his stomach and knelt down.

Both elves had their eyes closed. The larger elf was curled on his side and grasping the other by the waist, his tear-streaked face pressed to the shorter elf's side. In addition to the blond's missing limbs, there was further evidence of torture. There were cuts all across his bare chest that had scabbed over, except for one that appeared fresh. Upon closer inspection, Sten surmised that it was actually an older wound that had reopened during the struggle the Qunari had missed. For a moment, Sten doubted the words of the soldier who had declared them more than soulless husks. Then he saw the movement of their chests, which rose and fell with slow, shallow breaths. This sign of life, so unexpected amongst the carnage wrought by the Imperium, brought a rare look of pity to captain's scarred face.

"Sten, the trail is still fresh!" The arvaraad shouted as he forced his eager saarebas to heel.

"We are returning to Meha-Shenaas," Sten replied as stood back up. He met the surprised looks of his soldiers with one of determination.

"What? But our orders are to pursue the magister and his men!" The arvaraad protested, then shrank back from the withering gaze leveled his way.

"We are also commanded to resist the will of the Imperium," Sten's deep, powerful voice boomed. "The magister clearly wanted all of these people dead, including those who could not defend themselves," he paused and looked again at the headless, handless body. "I intend to defy that by sparing the lives of these two," Sten pointed to the two elves at his feet. "Command your saarebas to weave a spell of sleep over them. Though their souls are on the precipice of the void, such sorcery may yet keep them tethered to the mortal world until a healer's work can be done!"

"As you wish," the arvaraad immediately acquiesced in the face of a direct order. He yanked the saarebas's leash, then led the mage over to the two fallen elves.

"None of you will ever speak of this," Sten warned. "Though Fog Warriors they may have been, they deserved better than this!" He pointed to the blond elf's oozing, pus-filled wounds. "Be assured, I will inform the Tamassran of my decision, and I will abide by her judgement..."

* * *

"And my judgement was to accept Sten's decision and accept Braith and Enric onto the path of enlightenment!" The Tamassran stated as soon as Sten had finished his tale. "For he was correct in his assessment. The magisters of Tevinter stand in opposition to the Qun. Slavery and poverty, murder and misery. These are the daily sustenance of the Imperium," the priestess said as she stood once more.

"This very place was once a monument dedicated to the slaughter of the innocent for their blood," the Tamassran explained in a hushed tone that nevertheless reverberated throughout the amphitheatre. "But in the hands of we Qunari, it is now used to collect water for our underground cisterns," the priestess added as she motioned to the wide grates that surrounded the dais. "Blood and death," she extended one palm, "versus water and life," she added while extending the other. "The differences between our two civilizations could not be more stark." When Martus finished the translation for the crowd, the Tamassran clenched both fists. "To defy the will of that wicked nation is our greatest calling, for in doing so we work toward the enlightenment of all!"

Once that was translated by Martus, the crowd erupted in cheers. Even Anders felt swept up by the swell of emotion all around him. He stole a glance at Fenris, who was staring at Enric, though the other elf had his head turned away. Tears fell from the dark-haired elf's eyes as he looked up at the Tamassran with a mixture of grief and utmost gratitude. Anders expected to see the same expression on Braith's face, but when he looked over, the mage saw that Braith's stolid blue eyes were fixed on Fenris, instead.

"No lies were told when Braith and Enric were accepted as viddathari, though certain truths were withheld for their own safety. They were indeed freed slaves of the Imperium, and anything beyond that was and _is_ no longer of any consequence!"

* * *

Hawke coughed in pain, his throat too raw to scream any further as he was wrenched from Feynriel's dream. No longer was the burning centered on the blood smear. It suffused his entire body, which shook and trembled as all of his nerves seemed to be firing at once. Through the crimson haze of his glowing eyes, he saw Tacitus standing in front of him. The magister's head was lowered and the hood of his robe was pulled over it, concealing his features. The magister held one hand under his mouth as he chanted in Arcanum, while the fingers of the other were stretched out toward Hawke like the grasping talons of a bird of prey. And then the pain abruptly ceased.

The tension on Garrett's muscles disappeared and he slumped against the rack. A new pain assaulted his arms, as Hawke found that he could no longer hold himself up with his legs, leaving his wrists to bear all of his weight. Still the sensation was miniscule compared to what he had experienced seconds prior, so he endured it.

"Garrett Hawke. Finally we meet," an unfamiliar voice intoned. "I apologize for the pain, but it was necessary to awaken you from your slumber. We have much to discuss and it could not wait for however long you planned to remain in the Fade." Hawke blinked his eyes and noticed that the crimson haze of his vision had cleared. In the dim torchlight, he could now see that the magister before him wore red robes, rather than blue, and the hands were far more wrinkled than Tacitus's. Hawke wanted to ask for the man's identity, but when he opened his mouth to speak, only a pained grunt issued forth.

"Very clever, by the way, inducing sleep for yourself and all of your friends to avoid interrogation," the unknown visitor mused wryly. "The only way I could find to wake you was to call upon the dragon mark."

Hawke shuddered at the mention of the blood smear across his nose. The slight tremor traveled from his shoulders to his hands and caused the manacles to chafe painfully against the reddened, raw skin of his wrists.

"Release him," the magister ordered the two guards that had completely escaped Hawke's notice until they moved from behind the red-robed figure. They obeyed instantly, then held Hawke up when it was clear that he could not support his own weight.

"Tacitus has been a very bad boy," the hooded magister said with a tsk. "You are well-known to the magisters of the Imperium, and to bring you here to this filthy, stinking dungeon was most certainly not a reflection of our collective will."

"Who..." Hawke struggled again to speak. His hoarse, raspy voice was even less familiar to him than the magister's. "Who are you?" He finally managed to ask.

"I am Magister Ahriman," the man replied and swept his hood back to reveal grey hair and a wizened face that wore a sly smirk. The man's eyes were blue like Tacitus's, but they held more mischief than malice within them.

"Ahr...Ahriman?" Hawke whispered, somehow knowing that name, but unable to place it. Between the pain in his throat and the chaotic jumble of his thoughts, Hawke was surprised that he was able to speak at all.

"It was quite a boon for me when you helped slay Danarius," Ahriman remarked with a wink. "I am here to return the favor."

* * *

The Tamassran spent the next hour or so detailing the selection of the new Arishok, the ailing health of the current Ariqun, as well as the Arigena's plans to negotiate a formal trade agreement with Rivain by way of Kont-Aar, the one Qunari possession on Thedas proper. Anders was sure that it was all very interesting, but all he could think about were the final, terrible moments Fenris and the Fog Warriors experienced. And if his thoughts were mired in such a way, he could well imagine what the elf was pondering at the moment.

Anders peeked over Esteban's head and saw Fenris looking down at the ground. The elf's face was completely expressionless. Anders knew that look well. It was when an anguish so great took hold of the heart and rendered the mind numb to the world. Anders had seen it on some of his patients... he had seen it on himself in the mirror. What he hated the most about that look was how very much it resaambled the deadened expressions of the Tranquil.

Memories of Karl surfaced as Anders continued to look Fenris's way. The other mage had been so full of life and laughter. Just as that blank expression marred Karl's once animated face, it was utterly wrong on Fenris. Even if though the elf seemed to brood and sulk more than anything else, that was still far preferable to what Anders now saw.

"Arigena, Arishok, Ariqun!" The Tamassran began to chant. There was no need for translation and the entire crowd answered her call. "Arigena, Arishok, Ariqun!" The priestess repeated, and was rewarded by an ever louder response from the citizens of Meha-Shenaas. Anders turned from Fenris and looked up at the Tamassran, who was once again on her feet. "Anaan esaam Qun!" She shouted as she unsheathed her dagger and held it to the sky. At this, the crowd roared in response. They needed no prompting as they repeated the triumphant phrase. Even the viddathari began to chant along with the townsfolk, but Anders could only stare. For in the Tamassran's hands was a dark grey dagger that was engraved with bright lyrium runes identical to those on Fenris's body. When he turned to Fenris, he saw that the elf was staring at the dagger, as well.

The din of the crowd's exultation finally began to ebb once the Tamassran sheathed her dagger and returned to her seat. People began to depart the amphitheater in droves, starting with the outer blocks first. The mass departure proceeded in a far more orderly fashion compared to gatherings only a fraction of the size that Anders had witnessed in Ferelden and the Free Marches. When it was their turn, Adrian stood and called for the attention of the assembled viddathari. The kenathari gave the Tamassran a quick look. She nodded and swept her golden eyes over Anders and the rest of the viddathari, pausing the longest at Fenris.

"Welcome to Meha-Shenaas, viddathari," the Tamassran greeted them with a smile. "I apologize for the less than warm welcome some of you received upon arrival, but be assured that poor hospitality is the exception, not the rule here," she remarked while glancing at Fenris, then Anders. "Tomorrow, I will meet with each of you individually and conduct your evaluations. You will be assigned your roles and will gain your proper place in our community. In the meantime, Adrian will escort you back to town," the Tamassran said with a nod to the kenathari.

"You are free to roam as you wish," the priestess added. "However, avoid the outskirts of the town and the jungle nearby. Before I left for Par Vollen, there were a series of leopard attacks on our townsfolk with two fatalities. There have been no reports since, but it is best to be cautious," she warned.

"Braith, are you ready to go?" Enric asked as he stood up from his teakwood chair.

"I would prefer to stay for a bit," the blond elf replied with a shake of his head before looking directly at Fenris. Enric narrowed his eyes slightly when he followed Braith's gaze, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He turned to the Tamassran and bowed.

"My deepest apologies once again. Anaan esaam Qun," Enric intoned. The Tamassran replied in kind and gave him a brief nod. The dark-haired elf then turned and soon disappeared into the departing crowd. Adrian also shared his farewells with the Tamassran and began to leave, but then paused when Fenris did not move.

"I... I need to have a word with Braith," Fenris said softly with his eyes cast to the ground. Adrian raised a brow, then looked at the Tamassran. She nodded, though Sten, who still stood before her, glared at the elf with unflinching disdain.

"Very well. The rest of you, with me," Adrian urged and began to walk away. Anders followed along, but then he slowed his step as he turned to watch Fenris approach the dais.

"Tell Adrian I'll catch up in a bit," Anders whispered into Esteban's ear. The boy nodded and gave the blond mage a brief wave. Anders turned back to Fenris and sighed with relief when he saw that he was directly behind the elf. He knew that Fenris wouldn't be happy with the mage's lingering presence given their earlier argument, but Anders felt compelled to stay.

Braith said nothing as Fenris took one hesitant step up the dais, then another. The snow-haired elf seemed ready to bolt at any second, but in the face of the other elf's silent stare, he continued. Finally Fenris stood within armsreach and halted his approach. Sten and the Tamassran both raised a brow at Anders's continued presence, but then turned to watch the two elves, as well.

"Braith..." Fenris's voice cracked and a visible tremor ran down his bare torso. His tanned skin was now a shade darker from the strong tropical sun and provided an even bolder contrast for the bright lyrium tattoos. The silver brands glinted in the sunlight as the taut muscles tensed and shivered from the elf's anxiety.

"Hello Fenris," Braith replied. His impassive expression broke as a look of deep regret stole across his face as soon as he spoke the other elf's name.

"I... I..." Fenris's voice was shaking along with his body as he tried to speak.

"Fenris, there are no words that can convey how very sorry I am," Braith said before taking a deep breath. "But it is my hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"What?" Fenris choked out. "It is _I_ who should be asking for forgiveness!"

"I sold you out to your former master," Braith said as he began to tremble. He involuntarily rubbed at the scarred stump that was all that remained of his right arm. "I revealed the location of the Fog Warrior camp-"

"You were tortured!" Fenris cried out in dismay.

"And I broke in only a day with the magister who ruled over you for _years_," Braith replied with a look of abject shame. "I should have kept him from you. If I had been stronger, I would have accepted death and spared that of so many others."

"Braith, no!" Fenris cried out and fell to his knees before the other elf. He clutched at Braith's right knee and lay his head upon it as the tears he had held back for so long broke free.

"I know why you did it," Braith said as he began stroke Fenris's snow-white locks. "Danarius..." the blond elf shivered at the name, "told me about the lyrium tattoos. He said the pain was so great that it wiped the memories of everything that came before. With nothing existing before him, he was your entire world, wasn't he?"

"Braith..." Fenris coughed out, though he did not raise his head.

"We all loved you," Braith said softly, causing Fenris's shoulders to shake. "Though I know Senna and I didn't always make that very apparent," he added with a chuckle that caught in his throat as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "You were like a brother to us. A brother that I betrayed to the one man that he could not say no to," he added.

Braith's reddened eyes lifted and caught Anders's gaze over Fenris's shoulder. A single tear fell from the elf's eye, causing the mage to instantly blush, as he now felt like an intruder upon the scene. On one hand, Anders wanted to run away. On the other, he wanted to embrace Fenris and assure him that all would be well. The warring impulses kept him stuck in place, and so Anders met Braith's eyes and shed a tear of his own.

"In our ignorance, we Fog Warriors viewed the Qunari as enemies just like the Imperium. As you can see, that is not the case," Braith said with a glance to Sten and the Tamassran. "Though I still mourn for those who were lost, it fills my heart with hope that you have returned." Braith cupped Fenris's chin with his left hand and lifted the other elf's gaze to his. "Welcome home, Fenris."

* * *

_AN: If any of you are unfamiliar with Gone-Batty on DeviantArt, definitely give her page a look (the link can be found in my user profile). Earlier, reader Happily Ever Never mentioned Fenris's brands responding to Justice's presence, which Gone-Batty has rendered beautifully in her work. In SoS, the opposite reaction is featured. As Hawke discovered in Aurelius's book, the tattoos of the Lyrium Ghosts enticed the Fade-halves of the Spirit Warriors, though the factions remained completely opposed to each other. It was an attraction bound with hatred, just like Fenders ;). Still, Fenris's tattoos reacting to Justice is a fantastic idea and one that I might just borrow for a later chapter. Thanks in advance to Happily Ever Never and Gone-Batty!_


	20. The Sun and Moon

_AN: Sorry for the long delay everyone! I went on vacation, then after that it was Pride season in San Francisco. I got wrapped up in various summer activities, but things are back in gear with SoS :). Thanks for sticking with the story and I'll try my best to post at least one chapter a week! _

_In other news, I've added a gen fic to my favorites list for the first time! What sorcery is this? It's "Gigantic" by trilliumg. Alistair x Morrigan. Seriously, check this out, because if it can work on a gay man like me, you know this is some good stuff!_

**Chapter 20: The Sun and Moon**

Hawke coughed in pain as Ahriman's guards dragged him along just behind their red-robed liege. Though the dusty stone floor of the dungeon passage was smooth, the constant scraping of his toes on it sent sharp pinpricks of pain racing up Hawke's feet, through his legs, and into his very spine. He tried his best to lift his legs to give his toes some clearance, but found himself completely unable to do so.

The little eruptions of pain felt searing hot, but soon a touch of frost-fingered fear gripped his heart. The thought of being crippled for life and unable to walk chilled him to the bone. A terrible despair began to claw at his soul when a memory of Anders in the Darktown clinic suddenly flashed in his mind.

"_I'm busy Hawke," Anders said with a clipped tone as he tried to close the door to the clinic. Hawke quickly lodged his right foot in the doorway. The blond narrowed his eyes and opened the door a few inches before slamming it against the brunet's foot._

"_Argh! Anders!" Hawke yelped and hopped on one foot as he followed after the blond healer. "We have to talk!"_

"_I have nothing to say to you!" Anders hissed._

"_Please!" Hawke exclaimed and grabbed hold of a feathered shoulder. Anders froze at the touch but said nothing. Emboldened by the other man's silence, Hawke took hold of the blond's other shoulder and slowly turned him around. The healer's eyes were closed at first, but snapped open at the gentle squeeze Hawke gave him._

"_Don't," Anders pleaded. Hawke felt a slight tremor under his hands and let go. _

"_I'm sorry... for what happened the other night," Hawke murmured._

"_It never happened," Anders whispered harshly, though the sadness in his eyes didn't match the anger in his voice._

"_I miss you," Hawke said, but at the suddenly hopeful look on the healer's face, he quickly amended, "as a friend."_

"_Of course." The blond's expression hardened in an instant._

"_Anders..."_

"_Hawke, I have patients at the moment. You may think you're the center of my world, but here in my clinic, you take a backseat to them."_

"_But what if I _am_ a patient?" Hawke asked with an exaggerated whimper and began to hop on one foot again. "I think you broke it."_

"_I really hate you sometimes," Anders growled, though the hints of a smile flitted across his face at the ridiculous display._

"_I saw you smile for a second there!" Hawke whooped in triumph as he continued to hop._

"_Keep your voice down!" Anders ordered, bringing a look of abject contrition to the Champion's face instantly. The blond rolled his eyes._

"_Hawke, look, I know why you're here," Anders whispered as he eyed the room where Hawke guessed his patients were resting. "If you're worried that I'll tell Fenris about what happened that night last month, don't be. I may not care much about your life at the moment, but I certainly care about mine. I don't relish the thought of your brooding elf plunging his hand into my heart."_

"_Oh. Well... thank you," Hawke whispered back._

"_You can go now," Anders muttered._

"_I meant what I said. I've missed seeing you. Can I stay for a bit?"_

"_I have patients to care for," Anders reminded him._

"_I can help," Hawke added with a smile._

"_I doubt that," Anders replied with a frown._

"_That wasn't a no," the brunet said with a smirk._

"_Suit yourself," Anders said with an exasperated sigh and turned around. He walked into a side room where a large man was kneeling next to a young girl who lay across a pallet. Hawke guessed that she was the man's daughter judging from the button nose they shared. There were two other patients in the room, both older women, but they were fast asleep._

"_Champion!" The man exclaimed in surprise. He helped the young girl into a seated position. "Look honey! It's the Champion of Kirkwall!"_

"_Have you come to help Ser Anders make my legs work again?" The little girl asked in a pained voice._

"_Yes," Hawke said without thinking, then breathed a sigh of relief when Anders didn't contradict him. The blond pulled up a seat on the opposite side of the pallet from the father. Hawke continued to stand._

"_Gavin, you said she could no longer walk after her fever, correct?" Anders asked._

"_Yes ser. She was in bed for almost two weeks and after that she could no longer walk."_

"_Why didn't you bring your daughter here during that time? Surely Lirene told you that I don't turn anyone away?"_

"_I..." the father hesitated. He flushed crimson. "I am firm believer in the Chant of Light... I... thought it would be heresy," he explained in a weak voice while avoiding the healer's eyes. _

_"We are children of the Maker, just like you," Anders replied without any heat in his voice. Hawke looked at him in surprise. The blond apostate was far more gentle with his patients than with Hawke and his companions, particularly when it came to philosophical differences. Anders noticed the look on Hawke's face but withheld comment._

"_I'm sorry! I failed my sweet Emmaline! I knew I should have brought her here sooner!" The man coughed out as tears began to fall from his face._

"_Please don't cry Papa," Emmaline urged her father and patted him on the arm. He just shook his head and continued to cry._

"_Let's not lose hope just yet, Gavin," Anders urged. "First I'll need to assess the extent of the nerve damage."_

"_Using magic?" Gavin looked at the healer nervously. _

"_Eventually... most likely, but not just yet. However, if you think it will be a problem-"_

"_It's not a problem," Gavin quickly interjected. "If there's anything you can do for Emmaline, then please do it."_

"_Hawke, hand me that mallet on the table to your left," Anders instructed. Garrett raised a brow, but turned to look. He nodded to himself when he saw that the mallet was just a miniature hammer with a rubber head barely larger than the tip of his thumb. He handed it over to the healer._

"_Tell me if you can feel this," Anders instructed before gently tapping the girl's big toe with the mallet._

"_Ouch!" She cried out sharply. The two other patients in the room tossed in their sleep at the noise but didn't waken._

"_Is that bad?" Gavin asked with a trembling voice. He furrowed his brows at the wide smile that broke out on the blond apostate's face._

"_Just the opposite!" Anders exclaimed. "If she can feel pain down to her toes, it means she has an excellent chance of walking again!"_

The memory faded like a water painting caught in the rain, though Anders and his bright smile lasted after everything else vanished. With that reassurance lifting his spirits, the Champion sent a silent thank you to his friend and reaffirmed his promise to treat Anders better once they were reunited.

It took most of Hawke's strength just to keep his head up. His vision was still hazy, but he could make out Ahriman's form only a few feet ahead. The magister's body began to rise all of a sudden, confusing Hawke, until he noticed the short flight of steps ahead of them. The scurrying guards were too fast for the injured mage to give warning and his feet smacked right against the hard stone. Hawke cried out as the waves of pain radiated up his legs, causing Ahriman to turn around and level a sharp glare at his men.

"What part of 'handle him gently' did you not understand!" The red-robed magister hissed. The ice-blue glare then shifted downward at Hawke's limp limbs. "Support his legs, too, you imbeciles!" Ahriman ordered with an angry chop of his gnarled hands. His men instantly obeyed, each one stooping down for a moment to bring an arm under a knee, then lifting up once more. Satisfied by their prompt compliance, Ahriman turned back around and led them once more through the labyrinth.

"My..." Hawke coughed again, "my friends! We have to-"

"I have other followers attending to them. We will rendezvous with them shortly," Ahriman explained over his shoulder. "Do not fret. As if I would leave any associate of the Champion of Kirkwall in the hands of that sadist, Tacitus!"

"Thank you," Hawke whispered before squinting at the sudden intrusion of light. The walls of the dungeon fell behind and the musty, fetid air was replaced by a cool breeze that was laden with the scent of recent rain. The guards carrying him sent up splashes of water as they ran forward, paying no heed to the many puddles in their path. Hawke blinked his eyes while they adjusted to the sunlight that warmed his skin despite the wind. Two massive carriages could be seen ahead, each easily twice the height of a man and both drawn by a quartet of bay colored clydesdales. Even in his current state, Hawke recognized the magnificent condition of the large horses. Their manes were as finely combed as the tresses of a noblewoman and their coats held a healthy, impressive sheen.

A well-dressed, handsome elven attendant stood before the lead carriage and quickly opened the door upon their approach. The soldiers carrying Hawke followed Ahriman up the two steps, then deposited the injured mage onto the soft, velvet seat opposite the magister. As soon as the armored escorts sat down on either side of Hawke, the attendant closed the door and whistled, prompting the carriage to surge forward with the mighty rumble of the clydesdales' enormous hooves. Hawke's torso pitched forward from the sudden momentum, but both soldiers shot out their arms and steadied him well before he was in any danger of falling.

Hawke's head swam from the clamor of hooves and the rocking of the carriage wheels on the cobblestone pavement, but he retained enough of a presence of mind to notice that only Ahriman and his guards accompanied him.

"Where are my friends?" Hawke asked, his eyes narrowing and his voice full of suspicion.

"Oh, don't give me that look!" Ahriman huffed with a dismissive wave of his right hand before pointing with his left thumb over his shoulder. "The pirate, dwarf, and Dalish girl are all in the second carriage."

"I want to see them," Hawke said, his brown eyes still wary. "Now," he added.

"Don't be ridiculous. We're not stopping until we get a fair distance between you and Tacitus," Ahriman answered with an expression that could easily fit that of a teacher scolding an unruly pupil.

"And how far is that?" Hawke demanded to know, his concern for his friends temporarily overriding gratitude and manners.

"I'd say the distance between the dungeon and my estate just about does it," Ahriman replied with a wink.

"And what would prevent Tacitus from following us there?" Hawke shook as a tremor ran down his spine.

"Even without the walls and wards, if Tacitus values his hide, he'll keep well enough away. I have friends in high places," Ahriman remarked with a cackle.

"One of whom was speaking with Tacitus while you freed me, I take it," Hawke said, remembering his tormentor's fit when he was summoned away from the torture chamber.

"Correct. The Captain of the Dragon Guard himself had a little chat with Tacitus. I called in a favor owed," Ahriman explained.

"Dragon Guard?" Hawke raised a brow, having never heard the term in any of the tidings of Tevinter gleaned over the years.

"An elite regiment of dragon riders," the magister answered, before adding, "the Imperium's secret weapon," with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"If it's a _secret _weapon, why tell me?" Hawke asked, recoiling a bit at the intensity of the magister's gaze.

"Because I believe you have the potential to be another," the magister murmured, the glacial eyes studying the southern mage closely.

"What?" Hawke blinked in surprise, not expecting that answer in the least. "Me?" He pointed to himself and fixed Ahriman with an incredulous look.

"Drop the false modesty, Champion. It's tiresome," Ahriman said with a sigh. "You and your followers defeated a Qunari invasion force led by the Arishok himself!"

"Well-"

"One of the very pillars of their mad faith!" The magister continued to speak, cutting Hawke off. "A cunning strategist who had bested the efforts of the mightiest nation of Thedas! And you," Ahriman shook his head in amazement and pointed a gnarled finger at the Fereldan apostate, "you defeated him and sent the Qunari packing back to Par Vollen with their tails between their legs!"

"I wouldn't say that I sent them packing, exactly..." Hawke's voice trailed off as he felt a sharp twinge of regret at his defeat of the Arishok in a duel. The rest of the assembled Qunari could have easily surged forward to avenge their fallen leader, but to a man, they honored the terms of the duel and departed the city. It was clear from Ahriman's assertions that the magister didn't have all the facts. Hawke was about to explain more, but his instincts bade him to hold back.

"Say what you will, Champion of Kirkwall, but you accomplished far more against the Qunari than most Tevinter generals," Ahriman proclaimed. "And with far less men and resources."

"What can I say? I'm handy with a staff," Hawke said with a shrug and a smirk, deciding to milk the praise.

"And with dreams... _Dreamer_," Ahriman remarked with a chilled tone that matched his eyes. He nodded to himself when Hawke said nothing in return, then scratched his long, white beard. "As I suspected. When I first heard the tales of the Champion of Kirkwall, I certainly had my doubts. But now it all makes sense. Only a Dreamer could pull his companions into a slumber in the midst of a torture den. Only a Dreamer could traipse through the dreams of his enemies while they plotted in their sleep. Tell me, is that how you anticipated and thwarted the Arishok's plans?"

"Perhaps," Hawke lied with a shrewd look that was every bit a match of the one worn by the wizened magister across from him. Ahriman's face broke out into a grin and he sat back and crossed his arms.

"It would take an extraordinary man to tame Danarius's little wolf," Ahriman murmured.

"Fenris is a _man_, not an animal," Hawke growled.

"Yes, yes, of course. I am firm supporter of elven rights, so don't go scrounging for offense where none was meant," the magister scoffed and waved the mage's declaration away. "If my sources are to be believed, Fenris became quite embittered toward all mages, not just his former master," Ahriman stated with an inquisitive look at Hawke. When the younger mage gave a subtle nod at that assertion, the magister continued. "And then those same trustworthy sources revealed to me that the affirmed mage-hater had become a close companion of the Champion of Kirkwall, who was rumored to be a mage himself!"

"Opposites attract," Hawke murmured with a shrug.

"So you _are_ lovers!" Ahriman cackled triumphantly and clapped his hands. When Hawke didn't deny it, the guard to his right bent forward and gave a pointed nod to the other. Hawke glanced at the man, then looked back at the magister.

"Not that it's anyone's business, but-"

"Don't be so defensive," Ahriman chided with a roll of his eyes. "Relationships between humans and elves or between men hardly faze me. Speaking of which-"

"Can you help me find him?" Hawke blurted out, bringing the magister up short.

"I was just about to ask where your lover was," Ahriman remarked while thrumming the fingers of his right hand on his left arm. "I was surprised to discover that he was not among the prisoners brought here by on the Dragon's Maw."

"He was taken by slavers bound for Minrathous. My friends and I gave chase," Hawke explained.

"It would be nigh impossible for news of Fenris to not spread, had he been brought here. I doubt he is in the city."

"He must be!" Hawke argued, feeling a sense of desperation at reaching Minrathous without any tangible headway made in finding his lover.

"Then find him, Dreamer!" Ahriman retorted with a surprised shake of his head. "You have it within your power to locate him in your sleep. That's far more effective than any help I could provide!"

"What?" Hawke blinked.

"Do not tell me you did not realize this," the magister widened his eyes in surprise, then tsked under his breath. "Such a waste for a mage to grow up in the South, without proper appreciation or training of your abilities, especially for one as rare as you."

"Explain how I can find him through my dreams," Hawke pressed while pondering ways he could ask to see Feynriel without arousing any suspicions.

"Surely you have a memento of his. A favorite trinket, article of clothing, or some such. Enter the fade with the object and it will lead the way to him," Ahriman answered with a weary tone as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hawke wracked his memory for anything that might help Feynriel find Fenris's exact whereabouts. He began to meticulously catalog everything he had brought along for the voyage. At the intense look on the younger man's face, the magister fell silent for a bit, until all four passengers in the carriage grunted in surprise at the sudden dip and bang of the wheels passing over a large pothole.

Despite the plush velvet, the smack on Hawke's backside from the pothole smarted quite a bit. Even worse, the smear across his nose began to ache. Distracted from his train of thought regarding Fenris, Hawke leveled a cross look at the magister in front of him.

"Was it really necessary to use this," Hawke pointed to the sore dragon mark on his nose, "to wake me?"

"As if you really need to ask. You know as well as I that few things can wake a Dreamer from his slumber. Your connection to the Fade is far stronger than most and you can bend the passage of time there to suit your benefit. Given the circumstances, I have no doubt that _days_ would have passed in the mortal world while you took your sweet time gallivanting in whatever idealized fantasy struck your fancy."

"Still, you could've woken me up _later_," Hawke groused, feeling queasy from the motion of the carriage. He dearly wished he could go back to sleep, but the clysdales' hooves rendered that impossible.

"For the risks I was taking in freeing you, it was necessary to confirm your identity before bring you with me," Ahriman replied.

"But if you already knew what I looked like why wake me immediately?"

"I didn't know what you looked like."

"Then why-"

"I've heard your voice," the magister cut in with a sly wink.

"What? How?" Hawke furrowed his brows. Ahriman was silent for a moment, clearly ruminating on just how much information to divulge to his guest. He slowly carded his gnarled, bony fingers through his silver-grey beard, then shrugged.

"I heard all the events surrounding Danarius's demise. Your exchange with my deceased rival was quite riveting," Ahriman said with a chuckle.

"You were there?"

"No, no," Ahriman cackled and shook his head. "But an unwitting agent of mine was," the magister added, then paused as a look of understanding dawned upon the younger mage's face.

"Varania," Hawke whispered. "I _knew _your name was familiar!" He exclaimed and tried to snap his fingers at making the connection, but failed miserably in his weakened, uncoordinated state. Undeterred by that, he added, "you were her former master-"

"Former _employer_," Ahriman interjected with a haughty tone. "I do not own slaves."

"But that still doesn't explain how you heard everything. If she wasn't a willing accomplice, then how?"

"She never told me where she was going when she tendered her resignation as my household seamstress. But I had my suspicions. She was forever pressing to become an apprentice. Her impatience was quite vexing, I must say!" Ahriman grumbled. "I told her that I would teach her_ in time_, but that was not good enough for the likes of her," he muttered and twisted his index finger in his beard, then grunted when it became stuck for a moment. "I gave her a parting gift, a pair of earrings. She had no idea that they had been ensorcelled to serve as a second set of ears for me," the magister grinned. "So while I did not see that final altercation with Danarius, I heard _everything_. Despite how hoarse your voice is at the moment, I knew I truly had the Champion of Kirkwall before me as soon as you spoke."

"Varania..." Hawke's eyes opened wide as another thought entered his mind. "_She_ might have something from Fenris's past, something that can help me find him!" His wild eyes stared off into the distance before focusing once more on his red-robed savior. "Do you know where she is now?"

"Bah! I washed my hands clean of that untrustworthy wench! She sold out her own brother for what could have been hers without betrayal had she only possessed a bit of patience!"

"But I have to find her!" Hawke exclaimed, a note of desperation coloring his voice once more. "You're a resourceful man! Surely you can discover her whereabouts without too much trouble!"

"Perhaps," Ahriman offered without much conviction. "Though I don't think I can ever forgive the disastrous state of my wardrobe during the season it took to find her replacement," he muttered.

"Please. I would be forever in your debt!" Hawke pressed.

"I would say that you already are," Ahriman replied with a huff. The wizened magister then smirked and added, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Ahriman. Thank you."

The mage and the magister fell silent for the remainder of the ride. Hawke was unsure of how much time had passed, but the clatter of horse hooves suddenly stopped and his head bumped against the back of his seat. He hissed in pain and rubbed his head.

"And here we are," Ahriman announced and pushed away from his seat with a flourish of his robes. The magister was able to step toward the door with his head and shoulders held high by the clearance afforded by the sizable carriage. Sunlight streamed in as the attendant opened the door for him, bowing to Ahriman while doing so. The magister sucked his teeth in irritation.

"Kerrson, stop that bowing and scraping lest our guests think you're a slave rather than a servant!" Ahriman chided the black-haired elf.

"With all due respect magister, as a free man, it is my choice to do so. As long as it doesn't interfere with my duties under your employ-"

"Such a contrary tongue on this one," Ahriman muttered to Hawke, though a hint of a smile worked at the corners of his mouth.

"Hawke!" Two familiar voices shouted as soon as Hawke was carried out of the carriage by Ahriman's guards. He turned his head to find Varric and Merrill rushing toward him. Varric had a split lip and a bruise on one cheek, but Merrill seemed untouched as far as Hawke could tell.

"When you left the Fade we thought..." Varric's voice trailed off and his eyes dampened.

"What did Tacitus do to your legs?" Merrill said with a horrified voice as she looked back and forth at the two soldiers holding Hawke aloft.

"Nothing permanent," Hawke replied with as much confidence as he could muster. Neither Merrill nor Varric seemed convinced. They glanced at each other, then turned back to Hawke and approached.

"Kindly keep your distance until my healer has had a chance to look him over," Ahriman ordered the dwarf and elf. They instantly stopped in their tracks.

"Where's Isa-" Hawke's voice caught in his throat when he saw the bloody body that was lifted out of the second carriage on a pallet by two other guards. Varric and Merrill followed his eyes.

"It's better than it looks, Hawke, trust me," the dwarf said, though there was a tremor in his voice.

"She's alive," Merrill whispered, though her tone hinted at how tenuous that assertion was. There were razor-thin cuts over every inch of the pirate's body, including her left arm which was bent at an unnatural angle, while one of her eyes was swollen shut. Hawke felt the gorge rise in his throat at the sight of his wounded friend, but then the soldiers carrying him followed after Ahriman and turned Hawke away from her. They approached a lavish urban estate grander than any in Kirkwall, but the fine statues, gleaming fountains, and lush hanging plants were completely lost on Hawke as his mind filled with visions of revenge against Tacitus.

* * *

"Anders!" Lanreth gave the blond a pained wave as he entered Martus's clinic. "I had a feeling I'd see you here, as well." The redhead's face and body were nearly as red as his hair.

"Hello Lanreth," Anders replied, glad that his earlier tears had dried on the long walk to the house of healing. With a reddened hue to his skin matching that of Lanreth's, he gave the elf an empathetic nod.

"Martus is checking his supplies right now. He should be back any minute."

"Where's Tieral?" Anders glanced around the white marble waiting room.

"Oh, he took after our father, whose skin was dark like Fenris's. Though Tieral is fair, he tans quite well in the sun, while I burn," Lanreth remarked with a sigh. His blue eyes took notice of the far away look that crossed the blond's face at the mention of the lyrium-tattooed elf. "I noticed that you stayed behind with Fenris after the gathering," the redhead mentioned softly.

"I did," Anders murmured.

"Is everything well?"

"No," Anders groaned in frustration and wiped an errant lock from his face. "He holds a grudge like no other. And part of me hates him, but another part..." the blond let his voice trail off.

"I know how you feel. He and Tieral are very much alike. Both run hot and cold at a moment's notice. Still, it is obvious that Fenris cares for you," Lanreth remarked, then nodded empathically in response to the incredulous gaze that Anders gave him. "It's true. Whenever he thinks you're not looking, he steals little glances your way."

"I'd wager the looks are more of hatred than anything," Anders scoffed and shook his head, then winced at the slight pain from the stretching of his sunburned skin.

"Hmmm, the looks are indeed intense, I'll give you that, but he doesn't hate you," Lanreth responded with a subtle grin.

"Lanreth, I appreciate your concern," Anders said with a scowl. "I really do. But you've only known Fenris for a few weeks. I've known him for years!" The blond's voice grew louder. "You have _no _idea the depth of hatred he holds for me and other-" he swallowed his words, having almost said "mages."

"_Careful Anders..._" Justice warned.

"Other what?" Lanreth asked, undeterred by Anders clear unwillingness to discuss the subject.

"Nothing," Anders grumbled and waved the question away with his hand.

"Other humans?"

"Yes," Anders nodded, hoping that would cover for his near conversational mishap.

"But Fenris has been the consort of the Champion of Kirkwall! Surely that proves he can't hate all humans!"

"Fenris has a way of making exceptions for Hawke that he doesn't allow for me," Anders muttered bitterly.

"But the you and Fenris seemed to get along fine when-"

"Lanreth, please!" Anders cut the elf off. His dark amber eyes flashed at the startled blues. "I know you mean well, but please, just leave well enough alone!"

"My apologies," Lanreth replied. Perhaps he blushed, but it was difficult to tell from the sunburn on his face. Both men turned from each other and looked straight ahead. Time passed in silence, until the redhead spoke up once more. "Anders, I-"

"Lanreth..." Anders warned with the tone of his voice. He didn't turn to the elf, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that Lanreth was now looking at him again.

"Let me just say this," the elf pressed. "You and Fenris both saved me from slavery. Though I don't know either of you all that well, I've grown fond of you both from our time on the Ataash," Lanreth added. At this, the blond's expression softened and he turned to the elf. "It pains me to see you two so at odds."

"It pains me as well," Anders admitted with a saddened look at the elf. He was about to add more when he heard the soft shuffling of sandals nearby. Both men looked up to see Martus approaching with a large basket in hand.

"These are for you," the gruff healer said as he placed the basket in front of them. Inside were two matching sets of light tunics, vials of a pearlescent salve, and jars of some kind of oil. "You may grow accustomed to the sun after a while, but for the time being, spread this salve," Martus paused and lifted one of the vials and handed it to Lanreth, "over any portion of your body uncovered by your tunic and breeches before going outside."

"What is it?" Anders asked once Martus handed him the second vial. The blond held it in front of his face and marveled at the way the the viscous liquid caught the light.

"We call it _kuurlok-maat_, which roughly translates into 'sun-scatter powder salve.' It contains finely crushed zinc and other minerals that will block the worst of the sun from your skin."

"Will this color our skin?" Lanreth wondered aloud.

"Slightly yes, though a tinge of grey is better than burning red, is it not?" Martus muttered with a raised brow. Both sunburned men quickly nodded.

"And this?" Anders reached into the basket and lifted the jar of oil.

"Pure coconut oil. This will soothe the sunburn. The kuurlok-maat contains coconut oil already, but after bathing and before bed, apply the pure coconut oil on your skin. It will bring the inflammation down and lessen the pain so that you can sleep better," the healer explained. Anders and Lanreth nodded and emptied the basket of its contents.

"Thank you, Martus," Anders remarked after he carefully put on a tunic. The cloth was soft and didn't irritate his skin as much as he feared it would. Lanreth also gave his thanks, to which Martus grunted.

"Just performing my role," the healer added and took the now empty basket in hand. "Feel free to share the kuurlok-maat with any other viddathari in need of it. I'm running low at the moment, otherwise I would give you more, but I will work on making more soon," Martus assured them. He nodded to them, then turned and walked away.

"He certainly isn't one for small chat," Lanreth joked as he began to spread the kuurlok-maat on his arms and lower legs.

"A bit of emotional distance can be a good thing for a healer," Anders mused aloud as he spread the pearlescent salve on his skin.

"I suppose," Lanreth agreed after a moment's thought. "There's no telling the gruesome things he's seen over the years."

"Indeed," Anders murmured as a disturbing image of Braith and Enric being brought for the first time to Martus entered his mind.

"_Never forget who was responsible_," Justice hissed. "_Make your peace with the elf for our sake, but keep well in mind what happened to those who put their trust in him..._"

* * *

"So will I walk again?" Hawke asked, then added pointedly, "unaided by person, object, or spell?" He lay across the sumptuous satin sheets of his bed and gestured impatiently for the elf standing next to him to speak. Though a merely a guest room, the fine wood furnishings, statuettes, and hanging tapestries rivaled those of the master bedroom of his estate in Kirkwall.

"Yes, you will walk again..." the healer answered hesitantly.

"I can hear a 'but' in there somewhere," Hawke murmured with a raised brow.

"_But_... a full recovery will take some time," the elf added carefully.

"Go on," Hawke urged. "Just get it all out. I'd rather know all the messy details than speculate."

"Of course, of course," the healer said with a nod. Emboldened by Hawke's words, the elf stood straighter and continued in a firmer voice. "You may experience periodic tremors and bouts of weakness, perhaps for as long as a year, give or take a few months."

"Okay," Hawke let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "That's not so bad."

"I suppose not," the healer said before giving Hawke a gentle rub on the shoulder. "Well then, I'm off. I think the dwarf and the Dalish girl are still outside, waiting in the vestibule. Shall I summon them for you?"

"Yes, please," Hawke answered. The elf bowed deeply.

"It has been a pleasure to assist you, Elf-Friend," the healer remarked with a smile, before leaving the room. Before long, Varric and Merrill entered, their eyes full of worry. The dwarf closed the door and was about to say something, but Hawke gestured for silence with a finger to his lips. The mage then pointed to the quill resting in the inkwell on his desk, next to a sheaf of parchment. Varric and Merrill both raised their brows, but complied. Varric handed the writing utensils to his friend, while Merrill placed the parchment on his lap.

_"We mustn't mention Feynriel's part in this, even in private. Ahriman has ears everywhere,"_ Hawke warned in messy scrawl. His penmanship had never been all that great, and now with the slight tremor in his hands that came and went, it was even worse.

_"Why? Ahriman saved us because he found out through Magister Aurelius,"_ Merrill quickly repled in script. Hawke reached for the quill, but Varric beat him to it.

_"We all thought the worst had occurred, but then Aurelius contacted Feynriel in the Fade and instructed him to wake us, now that we were in safe hands. If Ahriman and Aurelius are working together, perhaps our host already knows about Feynriel,"_ Varric wrote in a blur, expertly reapplying ink and shaping his cursive letters far more elegantly than his friends.

_"No,"_ Hawke wrote on the sheet with an emphatic shake of his head. "Ahriman think that _I_ am the Dreamer," he added before sweeping the quill point across the parchment to underline that sentence.

_"You don't trust him?"_ Merrill asked, her choppy letters hinting at her anxiety.

_"Not entirely, no. He was a rival of Danarius's. As eccentric as Ahriman might seem, he's a powerful magister with his own agenda,"_ Hawke answered with a calmer hand. Varric nodded.

_"So what now?"_ Merrill asked, the curve of her letters growing slightly more confident before handing the quill back to Hawke. He set it down and cleared his throat before answering aloud.

"We drink to Isabela's health and enjoy our host's hospitality."

* * *

Anders tossed and turned in bed, partly due to the irritation of the sunburn. The coconut oil had helped after a long, cold soak at the bath house, but the mage couldn't stop thinking about Fenris. He had seen neither hide nor hair of the elf since the Tamassran's gathering, and couldn't help but worry. Anders had no idea what time it was, but the sun had long since set. He thought he heard Fenris's voice several times in his half-sleeping state, but whenever he woke fully, he saw by the light of the moon that the bed on the other side of the room remained empty.

It didn't help that Anders could smell the scent of the elf on his pillow. Fenris's skin had a pleasant, woodsy aroma to it that the mage had grown quite familiar with after sharing a bed with him on the Ataash. Before Anders realized what he was doing, he pressed his head to the pillow and inhaled deeply. The mage's cock grew hard as Fenris's scent filled his nostrils. With a wanton sigh, Anders turned on his side and freed his straining erection from his small clothes. He kept his face on the pillow, but now had the leverage to stroke himself. Anders was just about to spit into his hand, when the smell of coconuts on his skin gave him another idea.

The blond lifted his head slightly and reached for the jar of oil on the nightstand next to his bed. He pulled the large cork stopper off and dipped his fingers in. During the day, the oil had been fully liquid, but in the relative cool of night, it had become semi-solid. He rubbed the small portion on his fingers against his palm, giving it a pleasant slickness as the oil liquified once more from his body heat. The smell of coconuts mixed with that of Fenris as he placed his head back upon the pillow and took himself in hand.

Anders remembered the feel of Fenris's body on his, their chests pressed tightly against each other as their cocks had rubbed together in a feverish rhythm. He remembered the taste of Fenris's kisses, the sound of his moans. Anders bit the corner of his lip as he stroked himself lightly at first, but with ever-increasing speed as he lost himself in the memory of the morning he had shared with the elf. The mage had wanted this to last, this recollection of Fenris when the elf's eyes had been filled with naked longing, rather than hate. But Anders wasn't prepared for just how incredible an aid the coconut oil would be for such activities. It was as good, if not better, than any of the oils and salves he had used to pleasure himself as a teen in the Circle of Magi. And so Anders felt the his body clench with imminent release far before he was ready. With a cry of pleasure and frustration, Anders began to spill his seed. He continued to stroke himself in a desperate attempt to hold onto the sensation. His body shivered at the heightened sensitivity that happened after an orgasm and he was forced to stop after only a few extra strokes.

Anders removed his small clothes fully and used them to wipe off his sheets and hands as best he could. Satisfied with the effort, he tossed them under his bed, then hugged the pillow close. He unconsciously turned it lengthwise and held it to his chest. Anders felt a deep calm settle over him as his body curled around the pillow, then let out a loud yawn and soon fell asleep.

* * *

"Was dinner to your satisfaction?" Ahriman asked as he stepped into the library that his guards had deposited Hawke in after the evening feast. The taste of roast duck and stewed potatoes was still fresh in the younger mage's memory.

"Quite, thank you," Hawke answered with a smile and a nod from the vermilion couch his legs were stretched across.

"What is that you're reading?" Ahriman motioned to the massive book that rested in his guest's lap. Hawke lifted the cover up so that he could read it aloud.

"An Illustrated Study of Seheron: From the Coastal Cities to the Tropical Forests of the Interior."

"Ah," Ahriman said with an odd tone to his voice.

"One of your guards was ever so kind to fetch this from the shelf for me," Hawke remarked, missing the subtle shift in his host's demeanor. "I recognized it just from the spine instantly."

"Is that so?" Ahriman asked politely. Hawke nodded.

"This book is part of my own collection at home, actually," the younger mage stated. "You have quite an impressive selection!" He added, pointing to the rows upon rows of large teakwood shelves behind him.

"It's less than half of what I was able to salvage from my estate on Seheron," Ahriman murmured. This time Hawke caught the wistful note in the magister's voice.

"You miss living there, don't you?" Hawke ventured a guess.

"I do," Ahriman replied with a sigh, before a more determined look crossed his face. "Come walk with me," the magister urged. Hawke raised a brow, then pointed at his legs.

"That's still rather difficult for me at the moment," the brunet reminded him.

"Merely a figure of speech," Ahriman remarked before snapping his fingers. The gold filigree throw carpet in front of the couch slowly lifted into the air. Hawke tested it with a few hard pushes with his right hand, then reluctantly maneuvered himself onto it. It dipped slightly from his weight, but remained aloft. He scooted over to make sure he rested directly in the center of it, then nodded to Ahriman. The magister waved his hands and the carpet began to float toward him. It undulated softly in flight, giving Hawke the feeling of sitting on a small boat resting on a gentle sea.

"Where are we going?" Hawke asked as the older mage walked briskly down a dimly lit corridor with Hawke right beside him.

"My garden," Ahriman replied as a large set of granite double doors opened automatically at their approach. A cool night breeze blew through the open archway and carried the fragrance of flowers in full bloom. The moon was full and high in the sky, casting its silver light over an immense garden of pale flowers, silver-grey shrubbery, and pastel, blue-green vines.

"I find the heat of the northern sun a bit harsh most of the time," the magister murmured. "Relaxing in the garden after sunset has always been my preference, so I had my gardeners choose varieties that bloom at night," he explained. "We have licorice, silver queen, moonflower, and jessamine, among others."

"It's lovely," Hawke whispered. He had never seen a garden dedicated to the night and was quite taken by the contrast from what he was accustomed to. It was more than just the colors and the soft lighting. The Champion had never thought much about how the attendant fauna of a garden added as much to the presentation as the flora. Instead of buzzing honeybees and whirring hummingbirds, he watched the gentle flitting of pale green moths and rapid darting of tiny, nectivorous bats.

"You have an appreciation of beauty," Ahriman said, stopping next to a large fountain of a nude male elf raising his hand toward the sky. Hawke's seated vantage point made it appear as if the statue held the moon aloft in his palm.

"I think everyone does, when given the opportunity to witness it in peace," Hawke replied, but Ahriman shook his head sharply.

"If only that were true," the magister said sadly. "The Qunari do not understand beauty. Their heretic faith warps their minds. The Qunari see things only in relation to how useful they are in procuring and securing resources. They cannot comprehend that beauty exists for its own sake," Ahriman whispered as a large luna moth landed on the palm he held out before him.

"And you're an expert on the Qunari?" Hawke asked with a raised brow.

"One does not need to be an expert to realize that the differences between the people of Tevinter and those of Par Vollen are as stark as night and day."

"I'm hard-pressed to say which I prefer after my introduction to Minrathous," Hawke quipped.

"And you think an introduction to Par Vollen, as a _mage_, would be any better?" Ahriman asked. "Perhaps if you cherish the thought of being bound and gagged."

"Well, with the right person-"

"You've seen some of the worst of Tevinter," Ahriman interrupted him. "But there are those of us who would see great changes in the Imperium. Slavery is a blight that demeans master as much as slave. It breeds excess and debauchery, and gives rise to many like Tacitus."

"You'll hear no argument from me on that point," Hawke murmured.

"Is it any wonder that so many of elves readily embraced the Qun in areas conquered by the horned ones?" Ahriman mused aloud, looking up at the statue of the elf in front of them. He said nothing for a moment, then turned back to Hawke.

"Did you know that elves form the majority of the Dragon Guard?"

"I did not."

"The dragons tend to bond with them far more readily than humans."

"So the secret weapon of the Imperium consists of the very people it holds in contempt," Hawke stated with an edge to his voice.

"Indeed. And here is where a truly momentous opportunity awaits."

"I'm not following." Hawke raised a brow.

"There is a group of magisters pushing for greater rights for elves, including the eventual abolition of slavery."

"Do you really think that is possible?" Hawke scoffed. "Here? In Tevinter?"

"Under current conditions, no. But the winds of war will blow once more and soon!" Ahriman waved both hands and a massive, shimmering map coalesced in the air in front of them. The landmasses slowly took shape to reveal the northern reaches of the Imperium and the whole of Seheron. Hawke's eyes scanned over various points of interest marked with sigils and the unfamiliar script of Arcanum.

"You're going to invade Seheron," Hawke whispered, recognizing a battlemap, even if he couldn't read the actual particulars.

"Yes! And the Dragon Guard will be at the heart of this!" Ahriman clapped his hands in excitement, causing the magical map to ripple in the air. "For a predominantly elven regiment to secure such a coveted prize would be just what this nation needs. It would throw much needed weight to the cause championed by Magister Aurelius, myself, and others of our ilk."

"Hopefully," Hawke ventured cautiously, though he couldn't help but smile at Ahriman's enthusiasm and noblesse oblige.

"The Summer Solstice approaches, already an auspicious time for the workings of magic. However, _this_ solstice will carry even more power," the magister intoned, before waving his hands again. The magical map pulsed for a moment, before a golden sun and a silver moon the size of a fist appeared just an inch above the top edge. Though inches apart, they rapidly began to converge.

"An eclipse," Hawke whispered as the replica of the moon began to cover the sun.

"Yes. Over Seheron, a total eclipse will occur on the day of the Summer Solstice. It is then that we will strike. And here," Ahriman pointed to the map where the dark-azure script of Arcanum began to pulse, "is where it all begins. Old Elmindar, now known to the Qunari as Meha-Shenaas..."


	21. Servants of the Qun

_AN: Not sure if I posted a note about this already, but "Ferelden" refers to the kingdom, while "Fereldan" is the spelling for people from Ferelden. I may have switched around the two here and there by accident._

**Chapter 21: Servants of the Qun**

Anders heard the sound at the edge of his consciousness. It waxed and waned at regular intervals, each time almost pulling him from his sleep, but not quite. Then he heard it again, accompanied by a wretched wail that brought him immediately to his senses. From the loud feline yowl, he now recognized the earlier sound as scratching at the door. Anders bolted from the bed, then realized that he was completely naked. He quickly fished into the basket next to his bed and threw on a pair of underclothes before making his way to the door.

"Well hello to you, too," Anders murmured groggily as Mab sauntered past him as soon as the door was opened. She didn't bother to give him her customary meowed response and barely glanced his way before suddenly picking up speed and making a running leap onto his bed. Anders sighed and shook his head at the rather perturbed look she was giving him. He was just about to close the door, when the other one across the patio opened.

Anders blinked in surprise. He had expected Lanreth or Tieral to step onto the shared porch, but instead, a tired, disheveled Fenris walked into view, with his torso bare and his breeches resting low on his narrow hips. His right arm rested in the sling, but the strap was as uneven as the elf's hair.

Fenris froze when he saw the other man looking at him from the opposite door. Anders was silent and still as well, with one hand braced on the marble doorframe and the other clenched on the knob. Both men simply stared at each other for what seemed like an interminable length of time, until finally the blond apostate spoke.

"Good morning," Anders offered politely.

"Is your cat well?" Fenris asked as he gently closed the door behind him, his voice upon waking even deeper than normal. "She woke me with that dreadful noise."

"She is," Anders answered. Both men seemed lost in thought for a moment. This time, the elf broke the silence.

"You are wearing only your small clothes," Fenris muttered as his eyes raked over the mage's body. Anders blushed instantly, then frowned.

"Well, your breeches leave just as little to the imagination, so..." Anders let his voice trail off and brought his gaze up from Fenris's crotch to the elf's green eyes. "_Not what I meant to say_," the mage chided himself inwardly, though a part of him delighted in the subtle flush that now colored Fenris's tanned cheeks. The elf opened his mouth to say something, then reconsidered and just stomped forward. Anders stepped back from the doorway to allow Fenris to enter with plenty of room between them.

"I was worried about you," Anders said as he closed the door behind them.

"You're not my keeper," Fenris grumbled and kept his back turned. He made a big production of going through his clothing basket, but Anders suspected that the elf was only doing so to avoid eye contact.

"Fenris, it doesn't have to be this way," Anders sighed as he sat down on his bed next to Mab. She didn't move from her curled up position and allowed the mage to pet her without protest, though she refused to purr. "This is as much your room as it is mine. You shouldn't feel like you can't sleep here because of what happened between us-"

"You can stop right there, Anders. This isn't just about us... sleeping together," Fenris growled, though he still kept his back to the mage.

"Then what else is it about?"

"The Fog Warriors!" Fenris growled and finally turned around, his green eyes flashing. "I am here on _Seheron_, the place where I murdered the very people who wished to give me my freedom! And Braithe, the one man who should hate me more than any other, asked _me_ to forgive_ him_!"

"Perhaps it's because he understands that the past should remain in the past," Anders murmured, though the heat of the elf's reply caused the blond to avert his gaze momentarily.

"An easy platitude that solves nothing," Fenris muttered.

"I'm just trying to help," Anders added and turned back, his amber eyes growing wide with irritation.

"I seek neither help nor conversation!" Fenris shot back. "This is why I stayed with Lanreth and Tieral last night. I knew there was no way you would just let things rest in silence!"

"Fine!" Anders exploded, reaching his limit. "Stew in your own thoughts! Keep it all inside, what do I care!" He continued to shout, while pushing himself off the bed and standing with his fists clenched at his side. "If you feel like crushing yourself with years of guilt then be my guest!"

Mab raised her head and watched both men carefully. The mage snatched up a pair of breeches and began to yank them on.

"Keep to yourself and mind your own business, and things _will _be fine!" Fenris retorted, though he kept his voice low.

"Oh! Need to get the last word in, don't you?" Anders growled as he pulled at the laces to his breeches, but in his anger, he tied them too tight. With a grunt, he undid them and tried again. When he looked up again, he caught Fenris staring at his crotch. The elf's green eyes snapped back up to the mage's face a moment too late. The dark brows beneath the fringe of white hair furrowed at the smug look that broke out on the blond's face.

"What?" Fenris asked, ignoring the volumes being said by the expression Anders was giving him. The mage shook his head slowly.

"Unbelievable," Anders scoffed. "I got the same looks from Hawke, you know," the blond answered with a smirk.

"Do _not_ mention Hawke! You don't even deserve to let his name fall from your lips!" Fenris warned and took a step toward the mage.

"Oh, because Hawke is so perfect!" Anders hissed and thumbed at the laces of his breeches. He delighted in the split second downward glance his movements garnered once more from the angry elf. "He's the one you should be angry at, not me!" The mage added with gritted teeth.

"Shut up, Anders!" Fenris shouted with a clenched fist. Anders was just about to shout back, but was brought up short by a loud knock at the door. He, Fenris, and Mab all turned their heads simultaneously at the sudden interruption.

"It's Adrian," the kenathari's voice reached their ears through the heavy door.

"Coming," Fenris answered gruffly.

"Is everything okay?" Adrian asked with a slightly raised brow as soon as the tanned elf opened the door.

"Yes," Fenris and Anders replied instantly as one. Judging from the look on his face, their swarthy mentor was hardly convinced by their abrupt answer, but he didn't press the issue. The wary expression shifted to one of excitement as Adrian clasped his hands in front of his chest.

"It's time for the long-delayed tour of the town!"

* * *

"And here is the heart of Meha-Shenaas," Adrian said to the viddathari as they entered a large clearing on the outskirts of town. The area was unpaved and full of massive stone mills and gigantic vats, along with dozens of workers and nearly as many beasts of burden. The group had already toured the docks, mason guild hall, weapon smithy, barracks, and market square. The latter had been in the physical center of Meha-Shenaas, and thus the kenathari's remark drew plenty of confused stares.

"We're nearly outside of the town!" Tieral protested.

"Ah, but coconuts are the lifeblood of our community, and here is where the majority of them are processed," Adrian explained as he gestured to the hustle and bustle behind him. A few of the busy Qunari waved at the viddathari, but most stayed focused on their various tasks. The majority of the workers were men and boys, who hauled buckets and baskets that were sized according to their bearers. The few women among the throng seemed to be in managerial positions, directing the flow of traffic between incoming wagons filled with the raw, husked fruit and those outgoing with the finished products, including oil and coconut milk.

"In fact, the very name of the town celebrates this," Adrian continued with a broad wave of his hands. "In the language of the Qun, 'meha' means 'coconut' and 'shenaas' means 'treasure'." As if to punctuate his statement, the gentle breeze shifted direction and carried the sweet scent of the town's namesake to all gathered before him.

"What was the name of the town back in the days of the Imperium?" Tieral asked before receiving a sharp jab in the side from Lanreth. "What's wrong with asking that?" The auburn-haired elf whispered harshly to his redheaded brother.

"It is a fair question," Adrian agreed, though he did not hide the frown on his face. "In those wretched times, this town was known as Elmindar," he answered, saying the former name as if it carried venom. A dark hand shot up from among the assembled viddathari.

"Yes Esteban?" Adrian asked as his eyes settled on the Rivaini boy.

"Does the old name mean the same thing as Meha-Shenaas, but in the language of Tevinter?"

"No," Adrian answered. The kenathari's jaws clenched for a moment, then he continued. "It was named after Magister Elmin, the founder of the town who put all of his slaves, including the half-elven ones he sired himself, to death when the Qunari liberated Seheron."

The viddathari were silent as they absorbed that information. When it was clear that no one wished to know anything more about Magister Elmin or his legacy, Adrian cleared his throat and steered the conversation back to the original theme.

"The coconuts that grow here are particularly rich in oil compared to those found elsewhere on Seheron, as well as Par Vollen," the kenathari stated proudly. "The oil has many uses, both industrial and personal. It is essential as a lubricant for the pulleys on our ships and wheels of our cannons. We use it to fuel our lamps and to make soap to cleanse our bodies. And last but not least, the fairer-skinned among us use it to soothe their skin from the ravages of the sun," Adrian remarked with wink toward Anders and Lanreth.

The playful look did much to lift the mood brought down by the discussion of Meha-Shenaas's past. At first, the blond Fereldan and the redheaded elf both winced at the reminder of their painful sunburns, but Anders and Lanreth couldn't help but grin at the gentle ripple of laughter from their fellow viddathari. The blond then snuck a glance at Fenris, who was smiling, but the expression hardened as soon as the green eyes caught sight of amber. Anders turned his gaze immediately back to their mentor.

"The oil used for industrial purposes is quite different than that marked for personal use," Adrian explained. "We call the processes 'dry' and 'wet', respectively. For the former, the dried flesh of coconuts is shredded and treated with a mixture of non-edible solvents, then pressed in stone mills to extract the oil." The viddathari watched as an ox-driver guided his beast around the nearest mill filled with the aforementioned white shreds. Glistening oil dripped continuously through a spigot into buckets that were periodically changed and taken away.

"For the wet process, the raw flesh is ground up and boiled, then left to cool overnight. The oil naturally separates from the water, giving us oil suitable to eat and apply to our skin by morning," Adrian remarked as he led the group toward a series of vats filled with simmering water and coconut.

"Unfortunately, the wet process yields far less oil per coconut than the dry, but we Qunari waste nothing. The fatty coconut meal that is left over is used to enrich the feed of our livestock..." Adrian explained, but Anders was paying less attention to the kenathari and more to the bare-chested workers who gleamed with sweat from the combined heat of the vats and the sun.

The feast for the eyes prompted Anders to think about certain other sweaty activities. Though the blond pretended to listen to the tour, his traitorous thoughts settled on Fenris and the memory of the infuriating elf's body pressed against his. Despite all wishes to the contrary, he stole another glance at the white-haired elf. Fenris was also ignoring their guide. The emerald eyes were filled with a look that Anders recognized instantly. Desire. Anders followed the elf's gaze to find him staring at a handsome brunet human with a deep tan. The mage experienced a deep flare of jealousy that instantly made him feel sick to the stomach from disbelief.

Anders chided himself on the ridiculous emotion. How could he be jealous at Fenris looking at another man? The brooding elf could rot in a blight for all he cared! Anders quickly reminded himself of Fenris's uncompromising bigotry, then exhaled slowly as a soothing wave of hatred washed over him. Hate was all that Fenris gave him, and thus the elf deserved the same in return. Anders turned away from the elf and resolved to pay more heed to Adrian's presentation.

* * *

"And now we come to the end of the tour," Adrian stated as the group stopped in front of a heavily guarded building with sturdy double doors set under a fine, pointed arch. Like the amphitheatre, there were remnants of sculptures that had been torn asunder.

"This was once a Chantry Hall in the days of the Imperium," Adrian explained with a sour look. "But as with all things on Seheron, it now serves a higher purpose," he added, his frown vanishing. "We stand before the _Tamassalvaar_, the Hall of the Tamassran."

"Shanedan kenathari and viddathari," one of the guards greeted impassively. Adrian greeted him in kind, prompting Meha-Shenaas's newest residents to do the same. This brought a fleeting smile to the soldier's face. He motioned to his compatriots, two of whom quickly took hold of the great iron rings set in the center of each door. There was barely any creaking as the massive doors were pulled outward to reveal a large alcove with more than enough room for the assembled guests. Marble benches lined the walls, while a wooden table piled high with fruits, nuts, and cured meats rested close to the second set of doors leading deeper into the Tamassalvaar.

"As mentioned before, each of you will meet with the Tamassran, who will determine your rightful place in our community. You will be seen according to your first names in the order of the Qunari alphabet. There is no telling how long this will take, given the highly individual evaluations, so food has been provided in case you miss the midday meal," Adrian explained before unfurling a thin scroll with names listed in the Qunari script. "Help yourself now if you're hungry," he motioned with his head to the table.

Esteban and Tieral didn't need to be told twice and were the first to rush forward. The former cabin boy still seemed nervous in the presence of his former assailant, but the enticing food worked wonders in helping him tolerate the close proximity. Esteban stacked as much onto his wooden plate that could fit, then scurried over to Anders just as Adrian announced Lanreth as the first viddathari to be seen.

"Would you like some?" The Rivaini boy asked, waving a dried piece of star fruit as he sat down next to the blond Fereldan.

"Actually, yes," Anders answered, and took the offering in hand. He could see Fenris past Esteban's shoulder, but the blond kept his eyes focused on his young friend. "So, what do you think you'll be?" Anders asked, eager for some small talk to keep his mind occupied while he awaited his turn.

"I've told you already!" Esteban exclaimed, though there was no heat behind the words, only excitement. "A tree climber and coconut gatherer!" He grinned from ear to ear.

"Ah yes, I remember now," Anders recalled with a genuine smile.

"What about you?" Esteban asked. The apostate's expression faltered.

"I have no idea," Anders answered as he again contemplated what he was good at in the absence of magic.

"Maybe you can be a gatherer, too," Esteban remarked with surprising clarity given the amount of food stuffed into his cheeks.

"I don't think so," Anders replied with a quick shake of his head.

"Are you scared of heights?" The boy asked with a raised brow.

"Not really, but all that swaying in the wind? No thanks," Anders chuckled.

"Well, whatever it is, I hope that the Tamassran finds you something that makes you happy," Esteban said, then offered Anders a slice of smoke ham.

"So do I," the apostate whispered before taking a bite of his food. He wasn't feeling nearly as optimistic, but Anders was loathe to dampen Esteban's enthusiasm. The mage gave the boy a soft smile and kept his misgivings to himself. Esteban set the plate down between them and the two friends settled into a companionable silence. Quiet conversations ebbed and flowed all around Anders, but none piqued his interest until he heard Tieral raise his voice.

"So, what did you get?" The auburn-haired elf asked anxiously. Anders turned his head to see that Lanreth had reappeared in the alcove with a big grin on his face.

"Assistant librarian," the redhead answered while Adrian called another of the viddathari for an audience with the Tamassran.

"That's perfect for you, brother!" Tieral exclaimed before giving him a big hug and returning the grin.

"He looks so different when he smiles," Esteban whispered to Anders and motioned with his eyes to Tieral.

"Don't we all," Anders whispered back, though his eyes were on Fenris, who was also smiling at the news from his redheaded friend. When Lanreth's eyes met Fenris's, the former's expression fell. Fenris raised a brow as the newly appointed librarian walked over to him and said a few words that wiped the smile from Fenris's face. Anders was too far away to hear what had been said to his reluctant roommate, but when Lanreth turned and walked toward the meal table, he got up and followed suit.

"Congratulations, Lanreth. That really is a fitting occupation for you," Anders remarked as he grabbed a plate right after the elf. He wasn't really that hungry after eating what Esteban had shared, but he wanted to appear as casual as possible.

"Thank you, Anders. It's... well, it's like a dream come true," Lanreth said with a shake of his head before picking up a sliver of papaya. "It's something I wanted to do back in Kirkwall..." his voice trailed off and his eyes hardened a bit at some distant memory.

"But...?" Anders coaxed gently.

"I tried to offer my services to various households in Hightown that I knew had extensive book collections, but I was turned away from them all. Most sought only manual labor, while the remainder were only interested in what services I could render in bed. No one in Kirkwall was much interested in an elf like me," Lanreth explained.

"Their loss," the Fereldan remarked and gave his friend a gentle nudge. "How did you get to be so well-read?" Anders asked while picking up a thin slice of what he hoped was chicken. When Lanreth failed to answer at first, he looked up and quickly added, "I hoped I didn't offend you. I've known other well-read elves."

"All mages no doubt," Lanreth whispered with a bitter tone. Anders recoiled just a bit, but then schooled his features back into a neutral expression.

"Um, well..." Anders thought about it and realized that all the elves he knew who were as interested in literature as Lanreth were indeed mages.

"I've always hated them," the redheaded elf whispered to Anders, who blinked in surprise.

"Why?" Anders managed to ask with a clear voice, though his blood had run cold.

"Because they're taught how to read and write from an early age. Because they're surrounded by books and scrolls, all of which are provided to them for free," Lanreth hissed. He looked over at Adrian to make sure the kenathari wasn't privy to their conversation on such a taboo topic for the Qunari.

"It's not all fun and games and reading for pleasure," Anders muttered.

"_Anders!"_ Justice's voice boomed in his head.

"Or so I've heard!" The apostate quickly amended with a nervous smile. The angry look on Lanreth's face softened just a bit, and then fell away completely with a long sigh.

"You're right," the elf whispered. "They are cursed after all," Lanreth continued, before sighing once more. "Perhaps 'hate' is the wrong word. It would be more accurate to say..." the elf lowered his voice even more, "that I'm jealous." At the wary look on his friend's face, Lanreth added, "not of their power or connection to the Fade, of course. Just the books."

"Of course," Anders echoed with a wan smile.

"I suppose I was lucky enough for an elf," Lanreth said with a shrug. "Tieral and I learned to read from Sister Elise, a Chantry nun who ran a clinic in the Alienage when we were teens."

"There was a clinic in the Alienage back then?" Anders asked in surprise. Lanreth nodded, prompting the blond to ask, "what became of it?"

"When Sister Elise left to become a missionary in Rivain, no one else stepped up to run the place. That's one reason why I never dedicated myself to the Chant of Light," Lanreth muttered. "While I respect Sister Elise for all she did, the fact that none of her sisters or brothers in the faith were willing to continue her work in the Alienage proved to me how much elven souls were really worth to the Chantry."

"The Chantry is full of hypocrites of the worst order," Anders murmured. Lanreth shrugged again.

"At least Sister Elise left me some of her books, though I read through them all in less than a week."

"Then how..."

"Tieral and I worked at the docks to make ends meet. Book shipments were easy enough to steal a volume or two from without anyone raising a big fuss," Lanreth explained with a slight blush coloring his freckled cheeks. "I wasn't proud of it, but reading helped make my life bearable."

"Well, your fortunes have certainly changed," Anders said, smiling with a bit more conviction this time.

"So it has." Lanreth beamed when he saw no judgement of his actions evident on his friend's face. "I had always assumed that the Qunari were all warriors, given the ones we knew in Kirkwall. I never thought about how that was just one segment of their society that had been cut off from a larger whole. To be a part of this... it's a blessing I never dreamed of," he added.

"I know what you mean," Anders lied, before glancing over at Fenris and remembering the original reason for following Lanreth to the meal table. "What did you say to Fenris earlier?"

"Braithe is in there with the Tamassran. I thought Fenris deserved a bit of warning."

"Ah," Anders nodded. He was about to add more, but then Adrian called out his name.

"Anders, the Tamassran will see you next," the kenathari announced.

"Oh, I'm sure Tieral won't let this go to waste," Anders remarked and offered his plate to Lanreth.

"You know him well," the redhead said with a smirk and took the plate in his other hand. "Good luck with your evaluation," he added.

"Thanks," Anders replied before taking a deep breath and walking over to Adrian's side. The Rivaini man smiled then clapped him on the shoulder. The sunburned blond yelped in pain.

"Oh! My apologies! I forgot!" Adrian exclaimed.

"It's okay," Anders assured his mentor. He tried to smile, but it looked more like a feral warning due to his gritted teeth. He waited a moment for the pain to die down, then entered the inner sanctum of the Tamassarvaal.

Anders remembered a work of art he had seen years ago entitled, "The Tevinter Chantry." He had come across it in Amaranthine when he had visited the home of a wealthy merchant who had caught his eye. The painting had portrayed the inside of an Imperial Chantry Hall in exquisite detail. In fact, the piece had left a far greater impression on Anders than the merchant, whose name had been long forgotten. So taken was the former Grey Warden with the painting, that he could still envision it clearly in his mind, despite the length of time since that single viewing. The powerful memory led Anders to imagine his current surroundings with an overlay of images from the Chantry Hall's Imperial past contrasted with its Qunari present.

The long, well-polished teakwood pews he had seen in the painting remained, but gone were the ornate hanging tapestries lined with matching peacock feathers. The soothing melange of greens and blues flecked with gold had been replaced by the stark red swaths of Qunari flags as wide as a man was tall. Instead of the multicolored stained glass framed in silver and lapis lazuli tilework, the windows now held translucent, frosted glass that was reinforced by horizontal steel bars.

Anders recalled with startling clarity the large marble statues of Andraste and Hessarian, the Imperial Archon who converted to the Chant of Light after killing the Bride of the Maker to end her suffering at the burning stake. The paired sculptures had stood prominently at the very front of the pews, on either side of a tall oak pulpit. Now the pulpit was nowhere to be seen, and only the lower halves of two broken statues remained.

People had been conspicuously absent in "The Tevinter Chantry." Anders assumed it was the artist's aim to focus all attention on the inanimate objects that breathed life into such a religious space. However, the imposing figure of the Tamassran seated on the raised dais ahead of him brought Anders back to the here and now. All those details he remembered from the painting long ago faded in the face of the priestess's golden-eyed stare.

"Shanedan viddathari," the Tamassran greeted him. To her left, off of the dais, stood Braithe, who greeted Anders in the same manner. Opposite the blond elf, to the priestess's right, was a horned Qunari warrior dressed somewhat similarly to Sten, but with two swords resting in the dark, nearly black leather scabbards hanging from his belt. The only greeting given by the horned guard was a barely perceptible nod in the viddathari's general direction.

"Welcome to the Tamassarvaal, Elf-Savior," the Tamassran said with a smile, though her gaze was more piercing than warm. "That was quite a daring escape that you orchestrated from the slave ship."

"Thank you," Anders replied, though his voice was a bit hesitant under the priestess's cold appraisal.

"Tell me," the Tamassran began with narrowed eyes, "what would you have done if the Ataash had not been there to force the retreat of the slavers."

"I..." Anders gulped. "I am not entirely sure. I... didn't plan everything through."

"That is evident," the Tamassran agreed. "Action without forethought is not the way of the Qun."

"I couldn't stand idly by while the elves were locked away in the cargo hold," Anders protested, though he kept his tone respectful.

"And so you would free them from their bonds only to risk their lives against better-armed adversaries?" The Tamassran asked with a raised brow, her triangle pendant glinting in the light.

"It was their choice to take up arms once they were freed," Anders replied, finding renewed strength in his voice as he imagined not only the plight of the elven slaves on the Osprey, but also the de facto enslavement of mages by the Chantry.

"A choice, you say?" The Tamassran asked rhetorically, though her expression shifted from mild disdain to one that was difficult to discern. Perhaps anticipation? Anders remembered the drakestone and sela petrae, and his willingness to use them in the pursuit of freedom. He straightened his posture and stood tall with his shoulders back.

"The choice to die on their knees or to perish on their feet," Anders answered.

"Some would say that such a choice is not really one at all!" The priestess remarked with a harsh tone and her eyes flashed. She leaned forward and her hands gripped the armrests of her chair tightly. Anders resisted the instinct to shrink from her gaze and met the Tamassran's eyes of molten gold with ones of steadfast amber.

"A life without freedom is a life not worth living," Anders replied with a zealous gleam in his eye as he imagined the Kirkwall Chantry exploding into nothingness.

"Ah," the Tamassran remarked with a smile and leaned back into her chair. She let go of her chair's armrests and laced her fingers. "You are fond of cats, yes?" She asked out of the blue.

"Um... yes. Yes, I am," Anders replied, somewhat startled by the abrupt change of topic.

"But you are from Ferelden?" The Tamassran tilted her head slightly and studied the sunburned blond closely.

"I am indeed," Anders replied, wondering what the the priestess was getting at.

"I was led to believe that in the Kingdom of Ferelden, dogs are held in the greatest esteem," the Tamassran stated. "Not cats."

"I'm not like most Fereldans," Anders replied with a shrug. "I've always preferred cats, though I did name my cat after the mabari hounds of Ferelden, because honestly, she acts a lot like a dog sometimes, which is a bit of a paradox, because I'm more of a cat person, but I've bonded with her so well. Not that I always name my cats after dogs, mind you. The cat I had before her was named Ser Pounce-a-lot..." his voice trailed off when he realized he was rambling an awful lot like Merrill.

"I see," the Tamassran said with a slightly bemused expression, then turned to Braithe. The one-armed elf cleared his throat and held up a sheet of parchment.

"According to the report from Sten and Vasravaan of the Ataash, the cat you brought aboard was responsible for wiping out the ship's entire infestation of rats in a matter of two weeks. She was obedient to a fault and was trained to lead sailors back to rat nests that she discovered," Braithe announced while skimming through sections of the report in his hand.

"_I wouldn't exactly call her obedient,_" Anders thought to himself, then said aloud, "she's been good to have around."

"We happen to have many cats here," Braithe mentioned, taking his eyes off the parchment to look directly at Anders.

"So I've noticed," Anders agreed with a genuine smile.

"Do you believe that your rapport with one cat might extend to many?" The Tamassran asked.

"Um, maybe?" Anders answered while fiddling with his ponytail stump. When he realized the nervous action, he abruptly dropped his hand and answered, "I think it's really up to the cats, but I do believe that they can tell when you're a cat person and act accordingly."

"I've seen this theory in action," the Tamassran replied with a nod. She turned to Braithe with a somber expression, then looked back at Anders. "It seems this evaluation will be one of the easier ones," she added. "One of the victims of the leopard attacks prior to my journey to Par Vollen was the town's assistant_ terenbasvaraad_."

"Sorry to hear that," Anders gave his condolences, then scratched his head. "The teren-what?" he asked, though he recognized the Qunari term for "cat" within the larger word.

"Assistant cat-handler," the Tamassran answered. "The cat handler and assistant cat handler are two of the few designations equally appropriate for both women and men," she explained. "Vasravaan and Sten of the Ataash both marveled at the connection you possess with the black cat of yours. The leader of that ship's soldiers is particularly hard to please," the Tamassran added with a smirk.

"Well, I am honored to care for the town's cats!" Anders exclaimed with a wide grin, having never imagined that something more akin to a hobby could be a full-fledged occupation on Seheron.

"It is not an easy role," the Tamassran warned with a stern look. "As ships anchor in our harbor, it will be your task to help evaluate the health of the ship's cats, replace them as needed from the local population, as well as cull any who are ill before the disease can spread."

"Oh," Anders replied, the big grin on his face falling away at the mention of culling sick cats. Still, unlike people, he would be able to discreetly heal them with magic without any of his patients divulging his secret. "I'm ready for the challenge," he added.

"So be it," the Tamassran stated, then turned to Braithe. The elf nodded and set aside the large sheet of parchment onto a nearby table, and picked up a smaller sheet about a quarter of the size.

"You are to report immediately to the docks. Present this to the harbormistress," Braithe held out the small sheet, with the written side facing Anders. It held the unfamiliar script of the Qunari alphabet in red ink. "She will then guide you to the Terenbasvaraad so that you can begin your service to the Qun."

"Thank you," Anders replied, stepping closer to Braithe and taking the sheet in hand.

"Your kenathari and closest associates may call you by your birth name," the Tamassran said, drawing the blond Fereldan's eyes back to her. "However, from this day forth, you will be known to the community at large as _Aten-terenbasvaraad_."

* * *

"You look happy," Fenris remarked without thinking as Anders walked by. The smile that was plastered over the blond's face vanished in an instant.

"As if you care," Anders remarked coldly. Fenris replied with a grunt, then looked away. The apostate didn't move, but just stood there without saying anything further. The elf could see Anders in the corner of his eye, but pretended he wasn't there. A hush fell over the entire gathering, as the other viddathari ceased their conversations and observed the silent pair . Finally, Fenris could take the awkwardness no longer and turned in his seat to look up at the blond.

"Yes?" The snow-haired elf asked with a clipped tone. Fenris's face was a mask of indifference that was mirrored by Anders. Dark amber eyes held his gaze until the blond sighed softly and shrugged.

"Nothing," Anders said as he shook his head, then walked over to Esteban. Fenris watched as the mage's expression lightened instantly once the blond began to babble about his new duties to his young friend. The hum of conversations picked back up as Fenris studied the fair man and swarthy boy. He couldn't hear much, but he thought he heard a mention or two about cats. When he looked away, he found Lanreth looking right at him. There was a questioning look in the blue eyes, but Fenris only scowled and averted his gaze. He glanced back over to where Esteban and Anders had been talking, only to find that the sunburned blond had already left the building.

"Tieral, you're next," Adrian announced. The auburn-haired elf gave his brother a nervous look , then got up and followed the kenathari. Lanreth and Fenris both watched him go, then the redhead set his plate down and approached Fenris.

"Not a word about Anders," Fenris warned even before Lanreth had a chance to sit down next to the brooding elf.

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Lanreth exclaimed with a lilt of laughter in his voice. Fenris glowered at him, but the redhead's grin remained.

"Your expression says otherwise," Fenris muttered.

"Then pick a topic, any topic, and we'll chat about that," Lanreth offered, patting Fenris on the shoulder.

"I'd rather not talk at all."

"Even if it might help to take your mind off of _you know who_," Lanreth stated with a pointed look and a slight nudge with his elbow. Fenris sighed.

"What do you think Tieral's role will be?" The still-brooding elf asked.

"I hope a warrior for his sake," Lanreth replied with a sigh. "Ever since he saw his first elf in Qunari battle-paint, it's been 'warrior' this and 'soldier' that nonstop."

"He didn't mention it at all when I slept over last night," Fenris said with a raised brow. Lanreth's smile fell and he blinked in surprise, but said nothing. "What?" The white-haired elf asked.

"Well... I told him not to talk about it when you were around," Lanreth explained after a bit of hesitation.

"And why is that?" Fenris asked. Lanreth shrugged.

"You can probably guess why," the redhead murmured.

"Enlighten me," Fenris urged with furrowed brows. Lanreth sighed.

"You're even more fit to be a soldier of the Qun than Tieral. But I've seen the way that Sten looks at you. I don't know the whole story, but you two know each other from before, don't you?"

"We do," Fenris admitted with a somber nod.

"It often seems as if he would like nothing more than to crush your skull with that ridiculously large hammer of his," Lanreth remarked. "I didn't think all the scowls between you two were a coincidence."

"And so you think my chances of becoming a warrior in the service of the Qun are slim," Fenris stated, rather than asked.

"Sorry," Lanreth admitted with a sheepish nod. "Who knows, though? Even if Sten is the leader of the town guard, perhaps he can overlook the past? The Qunari seem to put a lot of stock in that idea."

"They also put a lot of stock in honor. That scar of his..." Fenris traced a finger across his own face.

"You put it there?" Lanreth interjected in surprise. His eyes grew wide when Fenris nodded.

"Yes, after sneaking up on him while he was wounded. Not very honorable, that. Combined with the fact that I betrayed Braithe and Enric, I'd wager that Sten wants me dead. And to be honest, part of me would welcome it, as it's exactly what I deserve."

"Fenris!" Lanreth hissed. When the other viddathari turned their way, the redheaded elf lowered his voice, but his eyes remained angry. "Don't talk like that! I don't care what anyone says! You are a hero! The Tamassran was right. Who we were in the past means nothing compared to who are today. Embrace that Fenris!"

"And so the blood of those I killed doesn't demand vengeance?" Fenris growled under his breath. "What if someone killed Tieral and then later pledged service to the Qun? Would you be so quick to forgive your brother's murderer? Could you truly leave such a thing in the past?"

"But..." Lanreth hesitated, but his eyes remained obstinate. "But I _know_ you, Fenris. Whatever happened back then, it couldn't have been all your fault!"

"You don't know me nearly as well as you think you do," Fenris muttered. Lanreth sighed again, but chose to drop the argument. Both elves remained until Tieral walked back out.

"Well?" Lanreth urged his brother to spill the news.

"I am officially the newest member of the town guard!" Tieral cheered and rushed over to give his brother a hug, while Adrian called another viddathari, this time one of the women, for her evaluation. When the elves released their embrace, Lanreth reached up and placed both palms on the sides of Tieral's head. He leaned forward and gently rested his forehead on his brother's. "You were born for this. Mother and Father, bless their souls, would be so proud. Whatever the excuses of the Kirkwall guard, we know their reason for rejecting your application had nothing to do with your skill with a blade or your fortitude."

"If you're implying that Kirkwall's Captain of the Guard holds a grudge against elves, you're wrong," Fenris stated gruffly. "I know Aveline. She is _not _like that."

"And how many elves do you recall in Kirkwall's guard?" Tieral muttered in irritation and pulled away from his brother. When Fenris had no answer, the auburn-haired elf narrowed his eyes. "See, exactly."

"Perhaps she was under political pressure from Seneschal Bran. But even if the Captain of the Guard was guiltless, the mandate for keeping elves out of the guard was clear," the redheaded elf remarked, hoping to mollify both his brother and his friend.

"Perhaps," Tieral and Fenris replied in unison, drawing a hint of a smile from both of the brooding elves.

"My apologies. I didn't wish to trample on your moment," Fenris said before adding, "congratulations."

"Thank you Fenris," Tieral replied with more kindness than usual, clearly tempering his words in the face of someone with less certain prospects.

"When do you start your training?" Lanreth asked, prompting his brother to turn back to him.

"Actually, I need to go now," Tieral beamed. "There's just one thing..." the auburn-haired elf's happy expression faded.

"What is it?" Lanreth asked.

"We won't be roommates any longer," Tieral said with a slight frown. At the confused look on his brother's face, he added, "I have to move into the barracks."

"Oh... well, that's fine," Lanreth remarked with a smile that seemed a bit forced.

"Wait..." Tieral scratched his chin and turned to Fenris with a smile. The lyrium-branded elf raised a brow. "Since he and Anders aren't getting along, Fenris can be your roommate."

"What do you think, Fenris?" Lanreth looked at his friend expectantly.

"I'd like that," Fenris replied with a smile.

* * *

"Fenris, the Tamassran will see you now," Adrian announced, reading from the list of viddathari in hand. Most of them had since departed, including Lanreth and Tieral, as well as Esteban. Fenris dusted off his breeches, more from habit than necessity, then stood and followed the kenathari through the archway. He barely noticed the changes in the former Imperial Chantry Hall wrought by the Qunari. He glanced at Braithe for a fleeting moment and also noticed a horned guard, but for the most part, Fenris's eyes remained on the spiritual leader of Meha-Shenaas as he walked down the central aisle between the pews. The Tamassran's golden-eyed gaze shifted downward as the elf reached the edge of the dais. He sank to one knee with his emerald eyes lowered.

"I humbly kneel before the vessel of the Qun," Fenris intoned. His supplication was greeted with silence. He lifted his eyes to find a slight smirk on the Tamassran's face.

"Your courtesy is well-received," the priestess replied. She shared a quick look with the one-armed elf at her side, then returned her gaze to Fenris. "However, know that when you address someone in such a manner, maintaining eye contact conveys greater respect," she added.

"My apologies," Fenris said quickly.

"No need in this case. Though you are far more adept in our ways than your peers, you are viddathari," the Tamassrain remarked. "Still, you are quite the special case," she mused as her golden eyes traced over the silver lines on the elf's body. "I know what you are," the priestess added as her expression hardened slightly.

"I cannot excuse my actions, regardless of the forgiveness extended to me by Braithe," Fenris replied, forcing himself not to look at the blond elf.

"I do not speak of that," the Tamassran stated with a slightly raised brow. Fenris blinked, then took a deep breath as he attempted to guess the trajectory of the conversation.

"I slew several Qunari in the service of my master-"

"Former master," the priestess interrupted him with a stern voice. Fenris nodded and gulped. He worried the corner of his lower lip for a moment, but before he could continue on that note, the Tamassran shook her head.

"I speak not of what you _did _in the past. I speak of what you _are_."

"I'm not following."

"You are a _Lyrium Ghost_," the Tamassran answered with an appraising stare.

"I beg your pardon," Fenris replied. "A what?"

"A Lyrium Ghost," she repeated somberly. "A living weapon harkening to the final, desperate days of ancient Elvenhan."

"But these marks were placed on me by my m-" Fenris caught himself and amended, "former master, Danarius."

"Using a process he no doubt discovered through research on the final war between Elvenhan and the Imperium," the Tamassran answered.

"There were others like me?" Fenris asked with widened eyes.

"Oh yes. Quite a few," the Tamassran replied.

"The elves... did this to their own kind?" Fenris's heart began to beat faster and he broke out into a cold sweat.

"They did."

"Then Elvenhan deserved to fall!" Fenris growled, his eyes flashing in anger as the memory of the lyrium being burned into his flesh assaulted him.

"Do no be so quick to judge, Fenris," the Tamassran urged him with a look of pity.

"These... these markings... were seared into my flesh by the most vile magic imaginable! The pain was so great that it tore my memories away!" Fenris hissed, struggling to keep his voice down in the Tamassran's presence.

"I cannot excuse what they did, but keep in mind that it was in response to the imminent conquest of the elven homeland," the Tamassran interjected, her voice still calm and collected.

"And did it work? No!" Fenris remarked with a bitter laugh. "It was all for naught save for a wretched legacy uncovered by the descendants of their sworn enemies!"

"I have full faith that the Lyrium Ghosts could have tipped the balance in favor of the elves, had it not been for the fell machinations of the Demon Warriors," the Tamassran replied, her own voice raising slightly.

"Of course. With all of the demons at the beck and call of the Imperium, how could the outcome ever have been in doubt?" Fenris asked with gritted teeth.

"I speak not of the demons that fought for the Imperium. I speak of those who fought for the elves." The Tamassran's eyes flashed.

"To parlay with demons is to seal your doom," Fenris growled.

"My thoughts, exactly," the Tamassran said with a triumphant look. "But the Demon Warriors of the elves were even more pernicious than those in the service of the Imperium. They hid behind names alluding to virtues, but all creatures of the Fade are cut from the same cloth. They convinced some of the most influential military leaders of Elvenhan to willingly become _abominations," _the priestess hissed the last word, causing a visible shudder to run down Fenris's body. "This caused a great schism in elven society, with those allied with the Lyrium Ghosts on one side, and those held in thrall by the Demon Warriors on the other."

"How do you know all this?" Fenris asked, the rage in his voice tempered by a sudden, inexplicable wave of sadness.

"After the destruction of their homeland, the elves who were not captured by the marauding Imperial armies fled in all directions... including Seheron," the Tamassran explained. "There are ruins, deep in the jungle and high in the mountains where Qunari explorers have uncovered pieces of history that had been brought over by the elven refugees. Combined with research left behind by Imperial scholars after Seheron's liberation, the story of Elvenhan's fall took shape."

"Who knows. Maybe it was the lesser of two evils that won the war," Fenris mused while staring at the lyrium brands on his bare forearms.

"Perhaps. Though, know this. The elves who bore your markings did their best to thwart the Demon Warriors of Elvenhan. When a supposed alliance was forged between the two factions, it was the Lyrium Ghosts who reneged on the terms and struck down the abominations," the Tamassran said while raising a clenched fist.

"The Lyrium Ghosts betrayed them?" Fenris asked, with an odd note to his voice.

"To turn from the enticement of demons is not a betrayal, but an _affirmation_ of all that is right and good within mortalkind," the Tamassran intoned. "The Lyrium Ghosts represented the best hope for Elvenhan. They remained stalwart in the face of overwhelming odds. They understood that if they had put their trust in the Demon Warriors, even if they had won the war, they would have lost their very souls to an enemy far greater. Their legacy is anything but wretched, Fenris."

"I defer to the wisdom of those better versed in history." Fenris kneeled, though this time he maintained eye contact with the Tamassran. She nodded, then shared a glance with Braithe.

"Now that you understand what you are, we need to establish what you will _be._"

"I will be whatever is commanded of me," Fenris stated firmly.

"And you have no thoughts on the matter?" The Tamassran asked, though her look was far from questioning.

"None that I think will carry much weight," Fenris replied, trying his best to not sound surly, but failing miserably.

"Given ideal circumstances, what would you wish for your role in Meha-Shenaas to be?" The Tamassran pressed. Fenris chewed his lip for a moment, then stood tall.

"I would be as I have always been. A warrior," the lyrium-branded elf stated firmly.

"A former enemy of the Qun would now pledge his service to it?" The Tamassran narrowed her eyes.

"I would," Fenris nodded firmly, then added, "I have."

"But what of trust? Do you think your fellow soldiers could trust you? What of Sten, who would be your commander?" The Tamassran's golden gaze was piercing.

"I... I am..." Fenris stumbled over his words. "I long to have a sword in my hands again. These long days without one have reminded me that I am nothing if not a warrior."

"And yet you can understand if I do not bestow a position in the town guard given your _history_ with Sten," the priestess remarked. Fenris sighed and his shoulders slumped.

"Yes, I understand."

"Have you anything else to say before your role is designated?" The Tamassran leaned forward, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair tightly.

"No..." Fenris's voice trailed off as he looked away, but then he blinked and looked back up. "Yes, I do."

"Go on."

"Despite everything I did in the past, the people I have killed in cold-blood, the grief I have heaped upon those undeserving of it..." Fenris paused and glanced at Braithe, "the Qunari have shown me far greater compassion than I could ever have imagined." He took a deep breath and continued. "I do not deserve your charity, but I am humbled by it. I nearly became a slave again were it not for your people," he added, sinking to his knees. "I would have them be _my_ people. I am forever in your debt. I will do whatever is commanded of me and I will do it to the best of my ability."

"I see," the Tamassran said, pushing herself up from her chair. Her expression was inscrutable. She shared another look with Braithe, then stepped behind her chair and picked up a large burlap sack. "Rise Fenris," she commanded. As he did as he was bidden, the Tamassran tossed the sack his way. He caught it with his free hand, then blinked in confusion at the clink of metal within. He set the sack down and looked inside.

"My armor," Fenris whispered. He stared at the familiar pieces of his feathered, dark-grey armor, then looked up to the Tamassran.

"I take it you thought that was lost for good?" The priestess smirked. Fenris nodded. She motioned to Braithe. "He identified it for me."

"It was part of the bounty plundered from the slave ship the Ataash freed you from," Braithe explained with a huge grin. "I didn't recognize the feathers you added to it, but I'd know that suit of armor anywhere!"

"I don't understand," Fenris mumbled, his mind racing with possibilities, yet plagued with doubts. "Am I to serve under Sten, despite his distaste for me?"

"No," the Tamassran shook her head. Fenris's brows furrowed in confusion, but the priestess smiled in response. "You will not serve under _him_. You will serve under _me_."

"Congratulations, Fenris," Braithe exclaimed with a huge grin.

"I still don't understand." The white-haired elf glanced down at his armor, then back at the Tamassran.

"All tamassrans are entitled to an esaad and an esaaren. Personal bodyguards. One for the day, one for the night," the priestess said, before motioning to the guard to her right. "He is Esaaren. My night guard. However, as you can see, it is still day," she remarked, glancing at the light streaming through the barred windows. "I have never officially bestowed the position of esaad on anyone. Esaaren has extended his duties on occasion, but generally I've been served by various guards appointed by Sten. I've found none worthy of the official title of Esaad," she explained. "Until now."

"But my arm. I am right-handed and-"

"And you are a Lyrium Ghost, Fenris," the Tamassran interjected. "Your arm has no doubt healed enough for you to remove the splints and sling."

"What of Martus?" Fenris asked, imagining the surly healer's displeasure.

"I give you permission to disregard Martus's orders," she smirked.

"I... I don't know what to say..." Fenris murmured, though he shrugged the sling off and freed his right arm.

"I think 'anaan esaam Qun' is a good place to start," the Tamassran replied with a smirk.

"Anaan esaam Qun!" Fenris immediately answered, to which the Tamassran, Braithe, and Esaaren replied in kind.

"As Esaad, you are to carry a weapon on your person at all times. In the vestibule behind us is a collection of them, including several taken from the slave ship. Take your pick, then return to my side as Esaad so that Esaaren may take his leave," the Tamassran commanded.

"Tamassran..." Fenris's eyes grew damp, though no tears fell. "You honor me with this chance at a new life."

"It is fitting that one who served the Imperium has found true purpose in the Qun. Our community is stronger from the inclusion of viddathari such as yourself, as well as your Ferelden friend," she added. Fenris immediately stiffened and looked away. He said something under his breath, but it was too soft to hear.

"What was that?" The Tamassran asked. "Speak up."

"I..." Fenris hesitated, his eyes full of worry.

"Esaad... I ask is that you trust in me as I now trust in you. Tell me what is troubling you," the Tamassran urged. "Does it concern your blond companion?" She raised a brow at the subtle nod from the white-haired elf. Fenris looked away again for a moment, then took a deep breath and met her gaze.

"There is something I must tell you..."


End file.
